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MOTHERLY TALKS 

VHTH 

YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS: 



EMBRACINO 



EIGHTY-SEVEN BRIEF ARTICLES ON TOPICS OF HOME INTEREST, 
AND ABOUT FIVE HUNDRED CHOICE RECEIPTS 
FOR COOKING, ETC. 



t J- 



MRS. H. W. BEECHER 







NEW YORit: J 
J. B. FORD AND COMPANY. 

1873. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, 
BY J. li. FORD & CO., 

in the OfBce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
Cambridge. 



PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. 



THIS book, composed of brief and pithy articles, on 
almost every conceivable point of household duty, is a 
friendly monitor for young wives, and a mine of good sense 
and information for growing maidens. Originally pubhshed 
in the Household Department of "The Christian Union," 
the articles have been so frequently called for and inquired 
after by those who had found help in them, that the author 
yielded to the desires of others, and has gathered them into 
this little volume. 

Mrs. Beecher's notion of woman's sphere is, that, whatever 
exceptional women may be able to accomplish, by reason of 
pecuHar circumstances and talents, and freedom from domes- 
tic responsibilities, the place of labor and achievement for 
most women, and for all married women and mothers, is 
Home. And this book is exactly what its title sets forth, — 
a kind and motherly way of helping the inexperienced to 
make agreeable, well-regulated, and happy homes. Follow- 
ing the "Talks" are a choice selection of nearly five hundred 
Cooking Eeceipts, all vouched for by the author's own ex- 
perience and skillful testing. 



COl^TEl^TS. 



PART I. 

MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

PAGE 

I. System in Work . ^ 

II. March ^ 

III. Spring Labor '^1 

IV. Sunshine and Fresh Air 1* 

V. House-cleaning ■'■' 

VI. Washing-day 21 

VII. Putting Clothes to soak 25 

YIII. Patient Continuance in Well-doing 28 

IX. Preparing for the Country 32 

X. Heedlessness 35 

XI. Washing Flannels 38 

XII. June Cai-es 42 

XIII. Pure Air and thorough Ventilation 46 

XIV. Jlilk and Butter 49 

XV. Making Cheese .53 

XVI. A troublesome Question 57 

XVII. Woman's Kingdom 63 

XVIII. The Kitchen 66 

XIX. How much is a Wife worth '?' 70 

XX. Teach little Boys to be useful 74 

XXI. Bleaching, Starching, and removing Stains ... 78 

XXII. To iron Shirts, Vests, and Embroideries .... 84 

XXIII. A Talk about Beds 88 

XXIV. Marketing 91 

XXV. Trust your Children 96 

XXVI. Who invented Bread? 100 

XXVII. How about the little Girls? 107 

XXVIII. Stealing Servants 112 

XXIX. Fall Cleaning 117 

XXX. Fashionable Dress 122 

XXXI. Lessons by the Wayside 126 



CONTENTS. 



XXXTI. Pauline Pry .... 

XXXIII. Buy your Cage before you catch your Bird 

XXXIV. Care in selecting a House . 
XXXV. Visiting for one's own Convenience 

XXXVI. Will they Board, or keep House V 

XXXVII. Choice of Colors in Dress 

XXXVIII. Harmonizing Colors in Dress 

XXXIX. A Word about Moths . 

XL. Winter Butter .... 

XLI. Repairs 

XLII. Accurate Weights and Measures in Cooking 

XLIII. Teaching little Girls to sew 

XLIV. The Care of Poultry .... 

XLV. Institutions for the Education of Women 

XLVI. Great Mistakes 

XL VII. Study to make Home attractive 

XL VIII. The Care of Cooking-Stoves and Ranges 

XLIX. The Old Ways and the New . 

L. A few Hints on Carving 

LI. Parental Example . . 

LII. True Taste more effective than Money 

LIII. Cooking by Steam 

LTV. Vegetables 

LV. Cabbage. ..... 

LVI. Pulse 

LVII. Pot-herbs and Salads 

LVIII. Mistakes in cooking Vegetables . 

LIX. Divided Family Government . 

LX. How can we secure good Servants ? 

LXL The Guest-Chamber 

LXIL The Care of Infants • . 

LXIII. Personal Neatness 

LXIV. Are House-Plants injurious to the Health? 

LXV. Bad Butter 

LXVI. October 

LXVII. The Slavery of Fashion .... 

LXVIII. Pickling and Preserving 

LXIX. What has become of all the little Girls ? 

LXX. Procrastination 

LXXI. The surest Remedy 

LXXII. A few little Things .... 

LXXIII. Planning for the Week . 

LXXIV. Shopping 

LXXV. Dusting 



CONTENTS. 



VU 



LXXVI. 


A Chapter on Soups 


323 


LXXVFI. 


More about Soups 


. 32S 


LXXVIII. 


Testing Character 


333 


LXXIX. 


If we knew ! 


. 337 


LXXX. 


In such an Hour as ye think not . . . . 


342 


LXXXI. 


Grumbling 


. 346 


LXXXII. 


Little Foxes spoiling the beloved Vine 


351 


LXXXIII. 


Waste not — want not 


. 356 


LXXXIV. 


Making Cake and Pastry 


360 


LXXXV. 


As thy Day so shall thy Strength be . . . 


. 366 


LXXXVl. 


What we know not now we shall know hereafter 


370 


LXXXVII. 


Until Death do us part 


. 375 



PART 11. 

CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

YEAST. 



Yeast 

Another 

Yeast-Cakes 

BREAD. 

General Rules 

Bread without Sponging . . . . 

Good Bread 

Bread with Sponging . . . . 

To make Bread from Flour that runs . 
Bread by Scalding the Flour 
To make Stale Bread fresh . 

Graham Bread 

Steamed Brown Bread . . • • 

Corn Bread 

Rice Bread 



BISCUIT. 



Morning Biscuit 
Tea Biscuit 
Soda Biscuit . 
Indian-Corn Biscuit 
Parker House Rolls 
Rusk . 
Sweet Potato Buns 



385 
385 
385 

386 

386 
386 
387 
387 
388 
388 
388 
389 
389 
390 

390 
390 
391 
391 
391 
392 
392 



viii CONTENTS. 

Potato Pone 392 

Gems 392 

Gems, No. 2 392 

Graham Gems 393 

BREAKFAST AND TEA CAKES. 

Corn Cakes 393 

Another Way 393 

Another 393 

Another ' 393 

Steamed Johnny-Cake 394 

Corn-Meal Cake with Apples and Suet 394 

Muffins 394 

Another Way 394 

Cream Muffins 394 

Another Way 394 

Eaised Muffins 395 

Hominy Sluffins 395 

Quick Muffins 395 

Graham Flour Muffins 395 

Raised Waffles 395 

Corn-Meal Waffles 396 

Buckwheat Cakes 396 

Rice Griddle-Cakes 396 

Sour-Milk Griddle-Cakes 396 

GreCiJ-Corn Fritters 896 

Mock Oyster Fritters 397 

Corn Oysters 397 

Rice Cakes 397 

Rice or Hominy Cakes 397 

Rosie's Sallj^ Lunn 397 

Strawberry Shortcake 397 

Cream Toast 398 

SOUPS. 

General Directions 398 

Stock for Soups 399 

Tomato Soup ; 399 

Another 400 

A Vegetable Soup 400 

Mock-Turtle Soup . 400 

Bean Soup 401 

Soup with Eggs 402 



CONTENTS. 



IX 



Green Pea Soup . 
Turtle Bean Soup 
Nursery Soup 
Oyster and Clam Soup 
Potato Soup . 



402 
402 
403 
403 
403 



404 
404 
404 
405 
405 
405 
40G 
406 

4or 
4or 

407 
408 
408 
408 
409 
409 
409 
409 



FISH. 

To Boil Fresh Fish .... 

Baked Salmon Trout, with Cream Gravy 

Boiled Salmon Trout .... 

Fried Halibut .... 

Fish Chowder 

To prepare and dress Cold Fish 

Newport Fish Pudding . 

Fish-Balis .... 

Codfish Balls 

Scalloped Crabs 

Oyster Pie 

Oyster Fritters . 

To Frj' Oysters 

Lobster Patties . 

Lobster Kissoles . 

Fish Sauce 

A good Breakfast Dish .... 

Best Mode of Roasting Fish, Ducks, &c. 

MEATS, 

BEEF. 

Leicestershire Hunting Beef 410 

Spiced Beef 410 

Curried Beef 411 

Meat Pie 411 

Beef CoUops 411 

To Cook a Beefsteak 412 

Rump Steak, with Oyster Sauce 412 

412 

. 413 

413 

413 

413 

413 

414 

414 

415 



A French Broil 

Beefsteak Rolls 

Beef Croquettes .... 

Mock Duck 

A Nice Breakfast Dish 

Mock Venison 

To prepare Cold Roast Beef or Mutton 
Economical Breakfast Dish . 
A"TwoStorv" .... 



CONTENTS. 



MUTTON AND LAMB. 

Shoulder of Mutton Boiled . 415 

Shoulder of Mutton Spiced 415 

Mutton Stew 416 

Roasting a Log of Lamb 416 

To use Cold Lamb 416 

Mint Sauce 416 

VENISON. 

Jerked Venison 417 

Venison Steaks 418 

COOKING IN A " KUMFOKD BOILER." 

To Roast Beef or Mutton 418 

To Boil a Leg of Lamb or Mutton 418 

Corned Beef 418 

To Cook a Ham 419 

Fish 419 

VEAL. 

Meats for June 420 

Calf's Head and Harslet 420 

Head and Harslet Hash .420 

Veal Pie 421 

Sweetbread Croquettes 421 

Veal Patty 422 

Minced Veal 422 

VedHash. . 422 

Veal Loaf ....'.. 423 

Croquettes. . . ' 423 

POULTRY AND GAME. 

Steamed Turkey 423 

Broiled Chickens 424 

To Bake a Chicken 425 

Gravy for Roast or Baked Poultry 426 

Chicken Pot-Pie 426 

Fried Chickens . . . • 427 

To Cook an Old Fowl 427 

Roast Duck ..■.,.. 428 

To Roast a Goose 428 

Wild Goose 429 

To Roast a Green Goose 429 

To Boil a Goose 429 

To Stew a Goose ' , , . 430 

To Stew Pigeons 430 



CONTENTS. 



Wild Sqnabs 

Chicken Pudding 

Chicken Jelly 

Chicken Patties ....... 

To make Remnants of Meat, Chicken, etc., palatable 
Meat Croquettes 



POIUv AND HAM. 



To Boil a Ham 
Broiled Ham 
Ham Croquettes 
Ham and Toast . 
Ham Toast 



To use Cold Boiled Ham 

Another Way 

Ham Ball . 

How a Pig was Roasted on 

Good Sausage Meat . 

A Dutch Dish 



a Sugar Plantation 



431 
4.31 
432 
432 
432 
433 



433 
433 
433 
433 
434 
434 
434 
434 
434 
435 
435 



SALADS AND OMELETS. 

Chicken Salad 436 

Italian Chicken Salad 436 

Lobster Salad 437 

Potato Salad 437 

Plain Omelet 437 



Puff Omelet 
Oyster Omelet 
Omelet with Jelly 
Baked Omelet 
Omelette Soufflee 



438 
438 
438 
438 
439 



EGGS. 

Boiled Eggs 439 

Fried Eggs 439 

Poached Eggs 439 

Hard Scrabbled 440 

Fricasseed Eggs, or Egg Baskets 440 

Egg Toast 440 

Scrambled Eggs • . 441 

Scrambled Eggs 441 

Dropped Eggs 441 

Cottage Cheese 441 



xii CONTENTS. 

VEGETABLES. 

Corn 443 

Another Way 444 

Boiling Potatoes 444 

Another Way 444 

To Boil New Potatoes , . 445 

Mashed Potatoes 445 

Potato Croqiiettes 445 

Saratoga Fried Potatoes 445 

Scalloped Potatoes 445 

Snow Potatoes 446 

Potato Cakes 446 

To Fry Sweet Potatoes 446 

Maccaroni 446 

Egg Plant 447 

Another Way 447 

Fricasseed Egg-Plant 447 

To Stew Tomatoes 448 

Baked Tomatoes 448 

Scalloped Tomatoes 448 

Boiled Rice .449 

Cooking Rice . . . - • . . • 449 

Peas 449 

Green Peas 450 

Beans 450 

Asparagus 451 

Spinach 451 

To Boil Cabbage 451 

To Boil Cabbage with Meat . 452 

Another Way 452 

Cabbage like Cauliflower 452 

Cauliflower 452 

Hot-Slaw 452 

Cold-Slaw 453 

To Cook Onions 453 

CAKE. 

GEKEEAL KULES. 

Loaf Cake 454 

Mrs. Breedley's Fruit Cake 455 

Rosie's Raised Cake 455 

Fruit Cake 455 

Farmer's Fruit Cake 455 



CONTENTS. 



Whortleberry Cake 
01 ic Cake . 
Nice little Cakes . 
Queen Charlotte's Cake 
Lemon Cake . 
Molasses Drop Cake 
Chicago Fruit Cake 
Cider Cake 
Snow-flake Cake . 
Cocoa-nut Cake 
Macaroons 
Delicate Cake . 
Sponge Cake . 
Pineapple Cake . 
Molasses Cup Cake 
Loaf Cake 
Walnut Cake . 
Loaf Cake 
Western Cake 
Snowball Cake . 
Molasses Cake 
Corn-Starch Cake 
Moss Cake . 
Jenny Lind Cake 
Sugar Cookies 
Cookies 
Another Way 
Molasses Gingerbread 
Plain Gingerbread 
Excellent Ginger-Snaps 



PIES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 

Pastry 

PuffPaste 

Potato Pastry for Meat Pies 

Pumpkin Pies 

Dried-Apple Pies 

Pies of Canned Fruit 



456 
456 
456 
456 
456 
457 
457 
457 
457 
457 
457 
458 
458 
458 
458 
458 
459 
459 
459 
459 
459 
459 
459 
460 
460 
460 
460 
.460 
460 
461 



461 
461 
462 
462 
462 
463 



Mince Pie 463 

Rice Pie 464 

Apple Puflfs 464 

Marlborough Pie 464 

Chess Pie 464 

English Christmas Plum-Pudding 464 



xiv CONTENTS. 

A Family Christmas Pudding 465 

A Simple Christmas Pudding 465 

Bread Pudding 466 

Boiled Indian Pudding 466 

"Boiled Indian Pudding 466 

Palmjra, or Date Pudding . . 466 

Sponge-Cake Pudding 467 

Steamed Pudding . 467 

An Excellent Pudding 467 

Apple and Tapioca Pudding 467 

Sweet-Apple Pudding 468 

Fig Pudding 468 

Barley Cream for Invalids 468 

Apple Float 468 

Sago Pudding 468 

Cocoa-nut Custard 468 

Apple Pudding 468 

Sauce 469 

Nice Cheap Pudding . . 469 

Orange Pudding 469 

Custard without Eggs 469 

A Quick Pudding 469 

Rice Meringue 470 

Sago Pudding 470 

Lemon or Orange Honeycomb . . 470 

Api:le Snow 470 

Snow Pudding 470 

Cocoa-nut Pudding or Pies 471 

Bohemian Cream 471 

Spanish Cream 471 

Eennet Wine 472 

Cold Custard 472 

Baked Apples 472 

Apple Snow 472 

PEESERVES AND JELLIES. 

To Can Peaches • 472 

Mixed Marmalade 473 

Jellies . . 473 

Peach Jelly *..... 474 

Quince Jelly 474 

To Preserve Quinces 474 

Candied Orange Peel 475 

Apple and Quince Sauce 475 



CONTENTS. XV 

Apple Sauce 475 

Baked Pears • . . . . 476 

CHEESE. 

Stilton Cheese 476 

Cottenham Cheese 476 

Parmesan 476 

Cheddar 477 

Dunlop 477 

New Cheese 477 

Swiss Cheese 477 

Sage or Green Cheese 477 

Cream Cheese 477 

Potato Cheese 478 

Cheese Straus 478 

PICKLES. 

Peach Pickles 478 

Pickled Plums 480 

Green Tomato Pickles 480 

To Pickle Green Tomatoes 481 

Pickled Nasturtiums 481 

Pickled Cauliflower .481 

Tomato Pickles 482 

To Pickle Onions 482 

To Pickle Ked Cabbage 482 

Cucumber Pickles 482 

To Pickle small Cucumbers and Gherkins 483 

Tomato Catsup 483 

MISCELLANEOUS HINTS. 

To make Tea 484 

Substitute for Milk in Tea and Coffee 485 

Bread Crumbs 485 

GLEANINGS. 

To Clean Kid Gloves 486 

To keep Grapes 486 

To Clean Oil-Cloths 486 

Fill your Lamps in the Morning 486 

Colored Silk 487 

To Remove Fi-uit Stains 487 

Bee or Wasp Stings 487 

To Preserve Brooms 487 



xvi CONTENTS. 

Glossy Starch 488 

Salt with Nuts 488 

To take Ink-Stains from Mahogany 488 

To keep Quinces 488 

Fruit Stains 488 

Ink Stains . ■ 489 

Buying Furs . ^ 489 

Drying Umbrellas . . ._ 490 

A Tight Ring 490 

Scrubbing White Paint 490 

How to wash Graining 490 

To keep Codfish 491 

Zante Currants 491 

To keep Cheese 491 

To keep Smoked Beef and Hams 491 

To keep Preserves 491 

Care of Flour-Barrels 491 

Indian Meal 491 

Coffee and Tea 492 

Raisins and Starch • . . . . 492 

Household Weights and Measures 492 

To test Flour 492 



INTRODUOTIMsT. 



"TT^OR the last two years we have occupied a corner 
-*- in "The Christian Union" with the following 
brief articles, and from week to week endeavored to 
bring to its readers something useful and practical. 
We have reviewed the daily labors indispensable to 
all classes of homes, giving whatever suggestions or 
criticisms seemed to us most needed or desirable, not 
only as regards the manual labor of a household, but 
also the actions, motives, and principles which build up 
and secure the happiness of a family ; or which, falsely 
understood and neglected, must lay the foundation for 
misery and sin. 

We have been requested by many of our readers to 
gather these talks together, for the more convenient 
use of those for whom they were written, namely, young 
housekeepers, who, marrying before their domestic edu- 
cation has received sufficient attention, daily find many 
stumbhng-blocks in their way, which haply a word fitly 
spoken might remove. 

Where so much has been written in the way of " Ad- 
vice to Young Housekeepers," " Household Guides," etc.. 



xviu INTRODUCTION. 

it would seem superfluous to venture on this well-worn 
track, did it not lead to a portion of general education 
too little thought of, where "line upon line and pre- 
cept upon precept" are peculiarly needed. 

The home education of our girls is often sadly neg- 
lected. Indulgent mothers, who have kept their daugh- 
ters in school from earliest childhood, think it would 
be cruel to ask that any part of their vacation should 
be usefully employed. It must all be given to relaxa- 
tion and amusement, leaving the knowledge of the 
homely household duties which would enable them 
to superintend and adorn a happy home to be learned 
after they have been "gTaduated." Yet how many 
young girls pass from the seminary at once into mar- 
ried life, and on their first entrance into society are 
transformed from simple school-girls into wives and 
housekeepers ! If no part of their child-life was de- 
voted to those lessons, which none should be able to 
teach so kindly and so thoroughly as a mother, what 
is the result ? The liome which the lover dreamed of, 
proves dark and comfortless, and the bride is too often 
transformed into the heartless devotee of fasliion, in- 
stead of the companion and helpmeet God designed a 
wife to be. 

Young ladies would soon discover the richer life there 
is in one's own home, if they were early initiated into 
an intimate knowledge of the whole routine of home 
duties and household mysteries, so that when they 



INTRODUCTION. xix 

shall be exalted to the dignity of the mistress of a 
house, they can with good judgment and intelligence 
direct their servants, or independently perform the 
lnhoT of a family, easily and methodically, Avith their 
own hands. With such knowledge, and the ability to 
execute, they can greatly augment domestic happiness 
and add new lustre to their charms as companion and 
friend. 

True, there is much that is hard and disagreeable in 
household cares and labors ; but what good thing do 
we possess that does not require thought, effort, and 
often unpleasant labor before we come into the fvill pos- 
session and enjoyment of it ? Under any self-denial 
or hardship experienced in the performance of duty, 
there is a great comfort in the knowledge that, the 
work being once mastered and made familiar, any 
thought of drudgery connected with it disappears ; and 
in the happy consciousness of independence and power 
over difficulties one finds great pleasure and full com- 
pensation. 

In preparing these articles for book publication, we 
have not attempted to Ijring them together in a method- 
ical manner, but have allowed them to follow one an- 
other in about the order in which we were moved to 
w^rite them by the daily occurrences around us, or in 
reply to many letters from discouraged or ready-to-lialt 
young housekeepers. Nor have we presumed to give 
advice or instructions to old, well-established mothers 



XX INTRODUCTION. 

and housekeepers, wlio doubtless knoAv far more than 

we do, and at wliose feet we would cheerfully sit for 

instruction. But like a mother in the midst of her 

young daughters we have desired to stand, answering 

such questions as they would naturally ask, pointing 

out mistakes that they are Hkely to make, showing 

where the error lies, and trying to offer a remedy; 

not in household affairs alone, but in many phases of 

the duties that belong to the wife and mother as well 

as to the housekeeper. To give some little assistance 

and encouragement in every effort to make home wliat 

it should be, — the happiest place on earth, — is our 

earnest desire. 

EUNICE W. BEECHER. 



PART I. 

MOTHEELY TALKS WITH Y0U:NG 
HOUSEKEEPEES. 



motheelt talks with toul^g 
houseio:epees. 



I. 

SYSTEM IN WORK. 

" T HAVE been hard at work all day," we think we hear 

JL some say ; "up stairs and down, from the cellar to 
the attic, looking into every nook and comer, and * putting 
things to rights ' generally. O dear ! I wonder what next 
those grim old housekeepers would expect me to take hold 
of. I have everything in good running order, as far as I 
can see, and now how I Avould like to take a book and curl 
up somewhere, out of sight and hearing, and have one of the 
old-fashioned good times I used to have before I was married. 
Well, I don't care. I mean to have it, anyhow, and just let 
things go on without my watching, for a while. Nora can 
manage to keep the house in order, somehow, now I have 
everything in its right place, I am sure." 

Ah ! but, my dear little woman, if you do not give daily 
attention to your household affairs, in a few days, under 
I^ora's rule, you will find the machinery all out of order, and 
be compelled again to go over the same wearisome labor you 
now complain of. 

" What then am I to do ] From this time on, is my life 
to be a perpetual drudgery "? " 

No ; not if you are wise. Be patient. It is a new thing 
to you now. Care does not sit Kglitly on young shoulders ; 



4 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

but time and a reasonable amount of patience will soon make 
the " crookuil ways straight, and the rough places smooth." 
A few weeks of extra time and thought, at the beginning of 
your new life, will teach you how to work methodically. 
Until this lesson is fixed in your mind, it will be " uphdl 
work " ; but persevere. Have a regular plan for each day's 
work, and every step will be easier and more natural. 

There is nothing like method and regularity to lighten 
labor. We have so many poor, discouraged, repining house- 
keepers, chiefly because they were not taught from the begin- 
ning to work methodically. Let this once become a fixed 
habit, and almost every one can find leisure for reading and 
recreation, certainly if in a position where they can delegate 
the hardest, roughest labor, under suitable supervision, to a 
servant. 

Secure a few moments every evening to think over and 
arrange for the necessary labor of the morrow. Bring before 
your mind just what ought to be done, and fix the mode and 
time for doing it distinctly. While dressing, the next morn- 
ing, review your plan, that all through the day it may be like 
a map spread out before your eyes. Of course, many things 
may occur that no foresight could provide for, — sickness, un- 
expected company, or interruptions past your control, — but 
nothing that can wholly derange a weU-digested plan for 
every day's duties. 

Try this mode of working resolutely for a few months, 
and labor or oversight of labor wiU become so nearly a sec- 
ond nature that you will arrange, or perform almost instinct- 
ively, even with pleasure, that which now seems a heavy 
burden, grievous to be borne. To show just what may be 
done, let us take a glance at the arrangements for washing 
and ironing days. 

Every housekeeper has her own way of apportioning the 
work of her servants. Where there are three girls, many 



SYSTEM IN WORK. 5 

prefer that the cook should take charge of the washing, leav- 
ing either waiter or chambermaid to do the cooking Mondays 
and Tuesdays. If these are tolerable plain cooks, this may 
answer ; but, generally, on those two days the table is less 
pleasantly served than during the remainder of the week. 

Now, we prefer to feel as sure of a well-cooked and Avell- 
served dinner on " washing-day " as on any other day in the 
week. For that reason, we think it a more excellent way to 
have the cook understand that the kitchen, pantries, and 
cooking are her own especial care ; from which, until that 
work is done, she is not to be called to assist in anything 
else. This plan, we think, insures a more orderly kitchen, 
cleaner pantries, and better prepared and more regular meals, 
than when the cooking is given over, two days in the Aveek, 
to one less accustomed to it. We see no good reason why, if 
company happens in unexpectedly, one should not be as well 
prepared to serve them on Monday as on "VYednesday or 
Thursday. By giving the washing into the care of the sec- 
ond girl, we think one may escape most of the terrors of 
"washing-day." 

Early rising should be one of the Avell-understood rules of 
the house, for the servants at least. As soon as up, on Mon- 
day morning, the laundress's first work is to light the fire, if 
the laundry is separate from the kitchen ; if not, the cook, of 
course, attends to that. The furnace is then to be well shaken 
and cleaned out, fresh coal added, and the ashes sifted and 
removed ; which, if clone every day, as it should be, is but a 
small item comparatively. Sweeping the front stairs, hall, 
doorsteps, sidewalk, and gutters comes next in order. By this 
time the fire and Avater Avill be in a proper state to commence 
Avashing; and that once begun, the laundress should be exempt 
from any other duty, save to feed the furnace, until the wash- 
ing is finished and the clothes brought in and folded. 

On Tuesday the same routine, while the fire is kindling 



G MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

and the irons heating ; after that the laundress gives her un- 
divided attention to her ironing. She should be up in. sea- 
son to finish sweeping stairs, hall, etc., and commence her 
wasliing and ironing by seven ; and then, unless the washing 
is very large, an ordinarily bright girl should have aU finished 
by Tuesday night, and be ready to give her full time to the 
chamber- work, — making beds, sweeping, dusting, washing 
windows, etc., during the remainder of the week. 

The waitress is often expected to take charge of the fur- 
nace, but we cannot think it is desirable. If there is a fire 
to be lighted in the parlor or sitting-room, to remove the 
ashes, wash the hearth, and have the rooms dusted and in 
readiness for the family, and then put her table in order, is 
all that she will be likely to do well. Besides, after work- 
ing in the cellar over the furnace, she cannot be fit to wait on 
the table vrithout taking more time to free her hair and dress 
from ashes and dirt than she can spare, if you would have 
the breakfast served promptly. And what is more disgusting 
than an untidy waitress 1 The waitress should have charge 
of parlor, dining-room, silver, answering the bell, and on 
Monday and Tuesday do the chamber- work. 

Where but two servants are kept, — and we are inclined to 
think the fewer servants the better the work is done, — of 
course the two must divide the work, each assisting in the 
washing and ironing, but the cook still retaining the charge 
of the meals. 



MARCH. 7 

II. 

MARCH. 

THE morning sun shines brightly, the air is mild and 
balmy; you" go about your early cares with a cheerful 
spirit ; and, after seeing that the " pickings up," the brushing 
and dusting, which are a daily necessity, are faithfully per- 
formed, you sit down to your sewing, your books, or your 
writing in a satisfied and comfortable state of mind. But in 
a few hours the sky grows dark ; grim and threatening clouds 
obsciu"e the sun ; the wind sweeps round the house with long, 
wailing moans, or short, fierce gusts, while you shiveringly 
draw the warm breakfast-shawl closer about you, and find 
that you have suddenly passed into a far less genial atmos- 
phere than you enjoyed in the morning. 

March may come in a very mild and gentle manner, but 
don't trust it. It is " fooling you." Its smiles are quickly 
followed by frowns, and the bright, warm sunlight all too 
soon will be forced to give place to fierce winds and drifting 
snows. "We are quite as well pleased when this, the first 
month of spring, appears in its own proper character, — 
windy, stormy, and bitter cold, — for then we hope that it 
will make its exit in a gentler mood. 

Yes, this is truly March, — cold, raw, and bhastering March, 
— which, with the early days of April, before the winds have 
fairly died out, is the terror of all careful housekeepers, — in- 
suring an abundance of extra work ; for its winds and storms 
will force an entrance into every part of the house, however 
securely guarded. No burglar's alarm can promise safety 
from this insidious foe. "Windows, pictures, and furniture, 
so nicely cleaned and polished but a few hours since, require 



8 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

a repetition of the same work many times a day. Xo month 
in the Avhole year demands such incessant use of dusters, 
brushes, and brooms, — such unshimbering watchfulness. 

Why not clean once a day and then let the dust be till 
next morning 1 

Because, if allowed to remain, it soils your hands and 
dresses, spoils your pictures, finds lodgment in your finely 
carved statuary, or settles in the graceful designs or rich up- 
holstery of your furniture. Once snugly secreted in woollen 
or plush, dust is not easily removed, but becomes the favorite 
resort for moths, affording abundant material for all their 
wants. There is no month in the whole year which so com- 
pletely makes you the slave of the broom and dusting-brush. 
If there is a carpenter ingenious enough to build a house so 
tight that it can defy the searching winds of March, he would 
most certainly be a universal favorite among all housekeepers. 
Under the doors, from the top, bottom, and sides of the win- 
dows, in at the key-holes, — everywhere the dust finds an 
entrance. No table, chair, or shelf may be touched without 
showing the presence of this subtle enemy. Each book, pic- 
ture, or article of dress acknowledges its power. Was it not 
in the month of March that the plague of dust tormented the 
Egyptians? Unless some learned interpreter of the Bible 
can prove the contrary, we are inclined to accept this idea. 
There is no other season of the year when one feels so little 
courage, for we camiot "rest from our labors." However 
faithfully the work may be done, an hour will destroy all 
trace of our industry. Then why attempt to do it 1 Why 
not let all cleaning cease till March gives place to its betters, 
and then have a general purification 1 

If there were no other reason for patient continuance in 
well-doiug, notwithstanding all discouragements, the injury 
done to carpets and furniture would be a good and sufficient 
one. With the strong March winds the dust is so thoroughly 



MARCH. 9 

sifted into the threads of carpets, and into the moldings and 
ornaments of furniture, that if not very often removed, it 
would be almost impossible ever to do it. The sharp grains 
of dust would sink into the carpets, and the friction of walk- 
ing over them would wear out the material more in this 
month than in any two months of the year. Heavy broca- 
telle curtains and delicate lace are very easily defaced and 
injured by the dust, if not often shaken and freed from the 
constant accumulation. 

It cannot be helped ; through aU this windy, unmanage- 
able season, frequent usings of dusters and brushes are inevita- 
ble, and, if thoroughly applied, aside from the economy of it, 
will greatly lighten the labor of the spring house-cleaning. 

A good beating with a furniture whip (two or three ratans, 
lightly braided or twisted together, and the ends united in a 
handle, found at any house-furnishing store) is an excellent 
thmg to dislodge dust from chairs, sofas, table-covers, mat- 
tresses, etc, but the beating must be followed by the use of 
the feather-brush over all, and an old silk handkerchief for 
polished or highly varnished furniture. 

Windows are very difficult to keep bright and clean at this 
season of the year. If there is rain or snow, it is usually fol- 
lowed by high winds, which dry the streets and very soon 
cover the damp windows with a storm of dust, — settling into 
the molding and around the sash to such a degree that it will 
require much time and hard work to remove ; and even while 
washing them, the dust is still swept over the windows. It 
is wise, when windows are so quickly and easily defaced, to 
wet a clean, smooth cloth in a little whiskey or alcohol, and 
cleanse the glass with it. It removes the dirt much more 
thoroughly and gives a better polish to the glass than water 
can, and evaporates so quickly that the dust will not so read- 
ily adhere. This may be liable to objections on the ground 
of economy ; but, for three or four weeks it is much more 
1* 



10 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

effective, and makes the work so much easier, that we are 
inchned to think it is not extravagant. Of course it must 
be used with judgment. A little will be sufficient. 

Now, more than any other part of the year, the ashes must 
be removed from the cellar, if you have a furnace, faithfully 
every morning. If allowed to accumulate, a heavy wind 
will send them up through the flues and registers, to settle 
in the carpets or furniture, and do more injury than the dust, 
because the alkali in the ashes will eat the texture and injure 
the colors. 

Then, again, it is important that on washing-days some at- 
tention should be paid to the wind. It is a great trial to a 
methodical housekeeper to put off the week's washing for a 
day or two. It seems to derange all the work planned for 
other days, and makes one feel unsettled, as if everything 
was sadly out of joint. It is not at all pleasant to consent 
to such innovation, but March is a tyrant, and in the end it 
is better to submit to its caprices. To see all your clothes on 
the line at the mercy of a real March wind, would be worse 
than to defer the washing and wait for a milder day. The 
clothes will be more injured and worn by one day's snapping 
on the line, in a very high wind, than in weeks of wear ; and 
unless one has a good, roomy attic with windows at each end 
to admit free air, it is wise, if not agreeable, to put the clothes 
in soak, after washing, in plenty of clear water, and wait for 
the calm, or defer the entire washing to that propitious mo- 
ment. 

Yet a good, brisk March wind, with an unclouded sky, has 
its excellences. There is no better time to put blankets, car- 
riage-robes, and heavy whiter garments out to air. If not 
left out too long, such heavy articles Avill not be liable to so 
much injury, by whipping on the lines, as cotton and linen, 
and it is an excellent and effective way to free these cum- 
brous garments from dust and moths. 



SPRING LABOR. 11 

These are only a few of the reasons for the necessity of 
more than usual vigilance in this stormy month of March ; 
they are but hints to call attention to the subject. Your own 
good sense, kept awake by the wild wind that is shaking 
the windows as we write, and bending the tall masts beyond, 
will enable you to carry them out more minutely and practi- 
cally than we shall attempt at present to do. 



III. 
SPRING LABOR. 



MOTHS. — The first few days of April are too near kin 
to March to warrant any decided steps toward the regu- 
lar spring house-cleaning ; but it is quite time now that spe- 
cial attention be paid to moths and their characteristic de- 
structiveness. 

In furnace-heated houses, moths are occasionally found in 
mid-winter ; but they are only the advance guard of the 
main army, and do Httle harm, save by the annoying re- 
minder of what one has cause to fear in spring. 

In April they will begin to show themselves very much in 
earnest, and are seen too often for your comfort, particularly 
after the gas or lamp is lighted. If an expert, you may de- 
stroy many, as, attracted by the bright light which lures them 
to destruction, they fly around you ; yet enough remain to 
keep you constantly on the lookout. We know of no remedy, 
when moths have once gained entrance to a house, but cease- 
less Avatchfulness. They often deposit their eggs in the 
fret-work and open spaces in cornices, as well as in wool- 
lens and furs, and therefore all such hiding-places should be 
carefully searched. In high-studded rooms it is difficult to 



12 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

reach these sheltered nooks, and therefore in them moths 
too often find a secure retreat. But although difficult, it is 
not impossible to dislodge them, even from these high places. 
A tall step-ladder, with a little care and some one to steady- 
it at the base, can easily be mounted, and from this height 
you readily gain access to your enemies. If the carving is 
deep and intricate, take a quiU, and with the feather-end 
brush out these holes into a dust-pan ; foUow this brushing 
with a wet cloth wrapped round a pointed stick. It takes 
time, care, and patience, but is very necessary. In houses 
that are not often painted, you will probably find large quan- 
tities of dust and lint that have accumulated and settled, from 
sweeping, in the cornices. In this the moths deposit their 
eggs ; and, when hatched, the worm which eats your garments 
may be found here, snugly rolled in its thin covering, or per- 
haps just ready to fly through your house, depositing its eggs 
for the next generation of moths. 

A new house, left for months unoccupied, or an old house 
long untenanted, it is said, will surely be overrun with moths. 
For this we do not vouch, but are quite inclined to credit it. 
Our first experience of the plague of moths was on taking 
possession of a house, almost new, that had stood empty 
some months, — a dearly bouglit experience, the debt for 
which is not fally cancelled after more than fourteen years. 
In aU the cornice ornaments we found large quantities of the 
eggs and worms snugly laid to sleep, till the warm spring sun 
should rouse them to begin their mischievous expeditions 
among our furs, blankets, and garments. Many were fidly 
developed, and flying about in search of some choice place to 
deposit their eggs. 

The spring and summer are their busiest time ; and as soon 
as it is warm enough to dispense with furs, heavy shawls, and 
woollen garments, these should be well shaken and brushed, 
then hung on the clothes-line and beaten with the furiii- 



SPRING LABOR. 13 

ture whip, every spot or stain cleansed, and repairs attended 
to before being done up and put away for the summer. Each 
housekeeper has probably her own theory as to the best way 
for packing up such articles as moths injure. Some put 
pepper, camphor, cedar-chips, sandal-wood, or moth-powder 
among the articles to be stored away, and then sew them 
up closely in old linen, or cover them with two or three 
thicknesses of paper, lapping one over the other, leaving no 
holes, and then seal the paper up with mucilage. We prefer 
the paper wrappings, but feel a little safer if we sprinkle 
Poole's moth-powder over the articles before sealing. 

We have been told that strips of cluth dipped in kerosene, 
rolled up and placed among flannels, furs, etc., which should 
then be shut tight in a cedar trunk or close drawer, will surely 
prevent moths from injuring them, destroying the eggs or such 
moth worms as are already iu possession. 

This appears sensible, inasmuch as moths are said to be 
repelled by any pungent, disagreeable smell. And surely, if 
that be so, kerosene would be most deadly. 

In carpets, moths generally seek the corners and secluded 
places. For that reason it is essential that in sweeping, at 
all seasons of the year, one should see that great attention is 
paid to the corners and edges of carpets. JN^ever attempt to 
sweep there with a common broom. You cannot get at the 
comers. Take a whisk-broom or a round, pointed brush, such 
as is used to clean buttoned furniture, called a. furniture hut- 
ton-brush, and with it clean out the corners where the carpet 
is turned in. Have close at hand a pointed stick, which, 
with a cloth wrapped about it, will enable you to pry into 
every nook thoroughly. Every few weeks it is well to draw 
the tacks in the corners a little way, and, turning back the 
carpet on to a thick paper or old cloth, give the edges a 
faithful brushing. It is under and near these corners that 
moths love to secrete their eggs. 



U MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPEKS. 

IV. 

SUNSHINE AND FRESH AIR. 

FEW realize how dependent we are on sunshine and fresh 
air for good health and pleasant, cheerful homes. When 
shown into a dark and dismal parlor, — blinds all closed and 
heavy curtains dropped to exclude light, — and creeping for- 
ward in search of a seat, fearing, each step, to stumble over a 
chair or upset a table loaded with small wares on exhibition, 
we always feel suffocated, as if in a vault among dead 
men's bones. And when the servant, after calling her mis- 
tress, returns and opens the shutters just far enough to allow 
one small ray of " light divine " to struggle through, what a 
relief it is ! How we long to spring forward, throw back the 
curtains, swing the bHnds wide open, and give admittance to 
the fidl glory of the free, glad sunbeams. But no ! Health 
and comfort must be sacrificed rather than expose the costly 
carpet and rich curtains. Only so much light as will enable 
our friend to recognize us may be allowed to enter, and after 
a few moments' conversation, as cold and spiritless as the 
room itself, how glorious seem the clear sky and pure air as 
we leave the house ! We are so chilled and benumbed by 
our -short tarry in those prison- like parlors, that it has pene- 
trated to the heart, and we are not quite sure that we feel any 
great affection for the friend from whom we have just parted, 
until, having walked a few moments, we regain life and fresh- 
ness by a full bath in the fresh breezes and invigorating sun- 
shine. 

Strange that any will deprive themselves of blessings so 
rich, so free, and health-giving for a mere fancy, — particu- 
larly when we find that the richest and most beautiful fabrics 



SUNSHINE AND FRESH AIR. 16 

are generally those which will bear exposure to open win- 
dows and pure light. 

That perfect ventilation and abundance of light and sun 
are indispensable to a healthy atmosphere all over the house, 
should be understood as one of the principles of good house- 
keeping. Servants are generally careless in airing the rooms 
committed to their care. Bedrooms, dining-rooms, kitchen, 
and pantries are seldom sufficiently ventilated ; and it behooves 
a housekeeper to maintain a constant watchfulness against 
such remissness. As soon as you are dressed, throw open the 
window, take off the bedclothes, spread them neatly across two 
chairs set in the draught, — taking care that the ends do not 
drag on the floor. Eaise up the mattress ; double it like a 
bent bow on the under-bed, or palliasse, that the air may cir- 
culate freely through and around it. Beat up the pillows 
and bolster, and throw them across a chair near the open 
window. Some hang them out of the window. All right, if 
you are careful first to brush the sill free from the dust that 
will, of course, accumulate there. When ready to leave the 
chamber, open the doors through from one room to another, 
even if some rooms have not been used ; but be careful, in cold 
weather, to close the doors leading to the halls, that parlors 
and halls be not made uncomfortable by too much draught. 

Children, boys and girls alike, should be instructed never 
to leave their bedrooms without at least throwing back the 
bedclothes and raising the windows ; and guests in a family, 
one would suppose, will do this for their own comfort ; but 
it is well that every housekeeper should be sure that it is 
done before she goes to the kitchen or breakfast-room. It is 
particularly desirable that our children become accustomed to 
this kind of care and attention to their sleeping-rooms ; for if 
the habit is fixed in early youth, when absent from a moth- 
er's care, in school, college, or business, and compelled to 
board, whatever other discomforts they may be subjected to, 



16 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

they can secure for themselves weU-ventilated beds and sleep- 
ing-rooms. If, from extra morning duties or ill health, you 
are not able to attend to this part of the chamber-work your- 
self, then, as soon as the rooms are all vacated, the chamber- 
maid should go to them at once, taking with her the chamber 
pail and cloths, and, first opening the windows and putting 
bedclothes and mattresses to air, as above mentioned, should 
empty all slops, wash out the washstands and all pertaining 
to them, — pitchers, soap-cup, tooth and nail brush holders, — 
gather up aU dirty clothes and towels, and put them into the 
basket, or, if wet, hang up to dry. By the time this is faith- 
fully done, the chambermaid will be ready to go to her own. 
breakfast, leaving the windows open, unless in stormy weather, 
and the beds unmade. Keep strict watch that the servants 
do not fail to air their own rooms and spread open their beds 
when they come down to their early morning's work. ]*^ever 
fear to open chamber windows in stormy weather. If the 
rain or snow beats in badly, drop the window from the top 
a little way, or spread an old bit of bagging or oil-cloth before - 
the window to protect the carpet ; but in sjDite of wind or 
weather, have a fuU current of fresh air pass through your 
bedchambers every morning. Once a week mattresses must 
be thoroughly brushed with a whisk-broom, and the tufts or 
buttons that tack them together cleaned with a round pointed 
brush, called a button-brush, so that no lint or dust can lodge 
about them to shelter moths. When free from lint and dirt, 
throw the mattress across a table, or spread on the floor an 
old sheet kept for that purpose, and lay it on that. In the 
same manner brush the under-bed ; then turn it up and with 
a wet cloth wipe off the inside of the bedstead, raising up the 
slats that no lint may remain lodged there. By such care 
you will save much trouble from moths and bugs. It is well 
to attend to this on Friday, or whichever day may be set 
apart for sweeping, as lint may be dropped on the carpet, and 
should be at once removed. 



HOUSE CLEANING. 17 



HOUSE-CLEANING. 

" nr AST year I thought house-cleaning would be ' real 
i J fun.' I had never before taken the entire charge of 
such extensive operations, and thought, in my simplicity, that 
I would show the old ladies how a smart young housekeeper 
would walk through the fiery furnace, with not even the 
smell of fire upon her garments. But I little dreamed what 
I had undertaken. I found out, however, before the ' fun ' 
was ended, to my entire satisfaction, and now, in this my 
second year of housekeeping, look forward to the spring 
cleaning with the greatest repugnance ; gladly enduring all 
the cold, the winds, and stonns of early spring, because 
they postpone the evil day. But now milder weather and 
warmer suns are upon us, and this great nuisance may be no 
longer deferred. How I dread it ! No regularity, all rules 
abolished, servants rebellious, husband — to put it mildly — 
uncomfortable ; baby cross, and I — the Grossest of all ] 
dear! What shall I do ?" 

"What shall you do % Take it easy. Patience, my child, 
the oldest panacea, is still the sovereign cure for such trials. 
But why " borrow trouble " % For weeks you have, in im- 
agination, been carrying this burden which you so much 
dread. Wait till the proper time comes to take it up. Give 
each hour its own work ; do not permit yourself to groan 
over that which belongs to the next ; and you will find the 
heaviest and most disagreeable labor, if arranged and per- 
formed systematically, glide smoothly through your hands. 
When it is finished, you will look back in amused surprise at 
the " bugbear " you had conjured up for your own torment. 



18 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEICEEPERS. 

True, what is generally understood as regular " spring house- 
cleaning " is not a pleasant operation ; but is it absolutely 
necessary that this important part of household duties should 
be made a terror to all in the house 1 We think not. When 
furnace, grates, and stoves, have been in constant use for six 
or seven months, and gas or lamps are burning many hours 
each night, a very thorough house-cleaning is indispensable. 
jSTo care can prevent smoke, ashes, and gas defacing walls 
and ceiling, and finding a lodgment in carpets and furniture, 
all over the house. And it is necessary that the warm spring 
days should be devoted to cleaning and renovating ; but cer- 
tainly not to the exclusion of real home comforts and pleas- 
ures, while this work is in progress. It is folly to commence 
by putting the whole house into disorder ; displacing every- 
thing, leaving no room in habitable condition, that by and 
by you may, from this utter desolation, bring order out of 
confusion. 

It is best to commence with the cellar, and the first thing 
to be done, after seeing that the coal-bins are in order, is to 
have your coal for the year put in. It is usually as cheap, 
and often cheaper, in the spring than in the faU. The coal 
safely housed, have the furnace emptied and put in thorough 
repair. Eemove all the ashes. If you have an ash- vault, or 
bin containing the ashes of the whole winter, you will re- 
quire a man to do it ; but if — which is much wiser - — • the 
ashes have been sifted and removed every day, it is no burden, 
and but a few minutes' work. Then aU bits of waste boards, 
boxes, and barrels, no longer usable, should be chopped fine 
and stored Avith the kindling wood. If dust and cobwebs 
have been overlooked, brush them down very carefully ; 
sweep the ceUar bottom, and, if it is of stone or cemented, 
scrub it clean. If all this has been done every week, as it 
should be, — save the putting in coal and repairing the 
furnace, — it wiU be only a piece of regular work ; but it 



HOUSE-CLEANING. 19 

must be done before any other cleaning is attempted, else 
the coal dust and ashes will penetrate every part of the 
house, and render all your labor useless. No door or win- 
dow can be shut so closely that they will not force an en- 
trance. Be careful to shut the " registers " from the furnace 
in every room, before moving ashes or coal. 

The cellar being in order, the next step is to the attic. If 
it has been properly attended to through the winter, it is no 
hard task to make it fresh and clean, unless you allow it to be 
made the " catch-all " for every kind of useless trash. If not 
" hard finished," the walls should be nicely whitewashed or 
calcimined, after the attic has been swept and dusted. This 
done, scrub the floor faithfully ; polish the windows, and ar- 
range neatly all that properly belongs to the attic. If you 
have pieces of carpeting stored there, they should be taken 
into the back yard, well brushed, and spread on the grass or 
hung on the line, the first thing, before the cleaning is 
begun. 

The cellar and attic in order, you are ready for the upper 
chambers. If you can afford it, it is well to secure four good 
house-cleaners, and by putting two in one chamber and two 
in another, keeping up a quiet, but vigilant superintendence 
of both parties, you will find, if the work is well contrived, 
and each part arranged in regular succession, it will be done 
more quickly, more effectually, and with more economy, than 
to endeavor to drag through with little help. 

Ingrain and three-ply carpets must be lifted every year, 
and that is the first thing to be done. Brussels and velvet 
do not need to be taken up oftener than every two years ; 
while heavy Wiltons, Axminster, and Moquettes should not 
be removed oftener than every three years. The texture is 
so firm, no dust works through to the carpet lining beneath, 
and faithful sweeping and thorough use of the " carpet- 
sweeper " will remove the dust and moth's eggs. Extra care 



20 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

will be required to clean and brush in corners, and wherever 
the carpets are turned in and nailed ; and they must also be 
protected, while the walls, ceiling, and wood-work are being 
cleaned, by a heavy drugget spread over them, and moved 
from place to place as the cleaning progresses. 

When washing painted walls and ceihngs, take care in dry- 
ing them that they are wiped in straight lines, from top to 
bottom, and not unevenly, or in circles ; for however clean 
you may wash the paint, careless wiping will give it a streaked 
and untidy appearance. 

Brush wall-paper carefully with a feather duster, and then 
pin a large towel tightly to a clean soft broom, and placing 
it up to the ceiling, bring it, with an even pressure, in a 
straight line down to the mop-board or casing. Proceed in 
this way until you have gone over the entire paper. It will 
be necessary to change the towel when it looks soiled. If 
this work is well done, the paper wiU look almost as fresh as 
new. 

In cleaning door-knobs, bell-puUs, or speaking-trumpets, 
cut a hole in a piece of oil-silk or soft oil-cloth, and put it 
round the knob or bell-pull, etc., to protect the paper or paint 
from being soiled. 

We have no room to carry these suggestions further at 
present, and leave your good, earnest, common-sense to prac- 
tice and improve upon them. 



WASHING-DAY. 21 

VI. 
WASHING-DAY. 

" irr it were not for the washing, housekeeping would lose 
-L half its terror. But I rise every Monday morning in a 
troubled and unliappy state of mind, for it is ivashirig-day ! 
The breakfast will surely be a failure, coifee muddy, meat or 
hash uncooked or burnt to a coal, everything untidy on the 
table, and the servants on the verge of rebellion. "With a 
meek and siibdued countenance, with fear and trembling, lest 
some unlucky word of mine may infringe upon their dignity 
and cause them to leave before the washing is finished, I go 
softly about the house." 

This ought not so to be. In the first place, if you allow 
yourself to be kept thus in bondage to your servants, you de- 
stroy all hope of comfort. Let them once see that you fear 
to give them offence, and from that hour they are your 
tyrants. 

Define, distinctly, the appropriate duties of each ; but with 
this proviso, that in emergencies they will be required to lend 
a helping hand in any department where their services are 
needed. Let them understand, unmistakably, what your rules 
are, — for you cannot manage a household without well-digest- 
ed laws and regulations, — then kindly, but firmly, make them 
know that you will have no infringement upon those rules. 

" I wonder how long any girl, my Bridget, for instance, 
would stay, were I to take such independent ground." 

Probably not long, if she has learned that she can intimi- 
date you ; and once aware of that, the sooner she takes her 
leave the better for your future peace, — that is, if you will 
be taught by this experience to begin right with her successor. 



22 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Those servants wlio fully recognize the lady as their mistress, 
in something more than name, are generally the most respect- 
ful and reliabh^, 

Never allow a girl to give a disrespectful answer or mani- 
fest irritability, simply because the work for some days in 
the week may be more distasteful than in others ; and never 
permit them to threaten to leave you without insisting that 
the threat shall be carried into effect, unless an ample apology 
is given ; for, if passed over submissively, it will be repeated 
whenever the girl's temper is ruffled. Not for our own self- 
ish comfort alone, but for the good of all who are compelled 
to employ servants, should we defend our own rights and 
position ; not till there is concerted action and organized 
rules that will define the duties and rights of mistress and 
maid, and these rules strictly enforced, will this plague, which 
leaves us at the mercy of our servants, be stayed. 

And now let us see if there is, really, any good reason why 
washing-day should be so full of terror. If one is feeble, it 
is not easy, nothing is ; but to a strong, healthy person, it 
ought not to be burdensome, even if one is obliged to do it 
one's own self, particularly with the aid of all the " modern 
improvements." The apportionment of duties we have al- 
ready considered, in Chapter I. 

Twenty years ago the tubs and wash-benches were to be 
brought from the cellar or area, all the water pumped, and 
often carried some distance, heated m a boiler, then poured 
into the tubs, and every article wrung out by hand. Then, 
in the city, tubs were carried out into the streets and the dirty 
suds emptied into the gutter. But there was little complaint 
then of hard work. "What would the girl of the present day 
think if expected to work under such disadvantages % 

Now we have hot and cold water in the laundry, wringers, 
" tubs set," generally, which can be emptied at pleasure, 
without a step, making the washing of a medium-sized fam- 



WASHING-DAY. 23 

ily not as laborious as the Friday sweeping of a large house. 
With one or two servants in the house, to divide the work, 
Avashing is not and should not be considered a hardship. 

Put the clotlies to soak overnight, rubbing soap on the 
collars, wristbands, bindings, etc., of each article. We have 
found Babliitt's soap very satisfactory, safe, and much more 
economical than most soap. It is excellent for bleaching. 
Cut uj) several cakes in sufficient water to dissolve them, and 
let it boil till the soap is all dissolved, then pour it into a 
wooden pail, or old butter-tub that is well cleaned, and when 
cold it will be nice soft soap, and keep well as long as it lasts. 
This is a good way to prepare any soap for soaking or boiling 
clothes. But it is more economical to have a cake of hard 
soap, to use for the dirty spots, while washing. 

Eub soft soap on the dirtiest parts of each garment, when 
you put them to soak, and just cover them with water. 
Table linen should be soaked in a separate tub, and washed 
first ; the line clothes, sheets, and pillow-cases put in another, 
and stockings and coarse things in a third tub. 

Early Monday morning wring out the clothes from the 
water in which they were soaked, and prepare a fresh, clean 
hot suds. Table linen and all fine or starched clothes shoiUd 
be washed and hung out first, that they may be dried before 
night. If any are left out overnight, it should be the stock- 
ings and underclothes, bath-sheets, and dish-towels ; the lat- 
ter must be soaked by themselves, and washed in water that 
has been used for nothing else. 

When a boilerful has been washed, rub soap on aU bind- 
ings, collars, etc., replace the clothes in the boiler, fill it with 
cold or lukewarm water, and set over the range to boil not 
over twenty minutes ; then pour all into a tub, adding cold 
water enough to make it comfortable to the hand, when ready 
to put them through the second suds. While the first set of 
clothes are boiling, of course those for a second boilerful are 



24 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

being washed and ready to be put in as soon as the first is re- 
moved, that no time may be lost. When the second is over the 
fire, get the first through the next suds and the two rinsing- 
waters, which should be blued and ready as quick as possible. 
Do not be sparing of rinsing- water. Have your largest tubs 
two thirds full, and put in but a few pieces at a time, so that 
each article may have unobstructed benefit of a large body of 
water, and all the soap may be removed. Wring and shake 
out and put into the second rinsing. Shake out each thing 
from the last rinsing, snapping them smooth ; lay them loose 
into the clean clothes-basket, and hang out to dry before you 
begin on the second boiler. Careless rinsing and wringing 
will soon turn clothes yellow. When two girls assist about 
washing, one should rinse and hang out while the other is 
washing. It greatly expedites the work, of course, if they 
do not spend half the time talking ; but it must be a very 
large wash that, even with but one at the tubs, is not all on 
the line before two o'clock. 

Eefined borax, in the proportion of one large handful of 
the powder to ten gallons of boiling water, is said to save 
nearly one half the soap, and make the clothes beautifully 
white and clear. It is a neutral salt and will not injure the 
fabric. For laces, cambrics, etc., an extra quantity is neces- 
sary. The wash-women of Belgium and Holland, so famous 
for the beauty of their work, use borax instead of soda.^ 

Much more might be said on this topic if space would per- 
mit, perhaps of little interest to old experienced housekeep- 
ers, but our talks are more especially intended for those just 
entering upon the unknown sphere of domestic care. 



PUTTING CLOTHES TO SOAK. 25 

VII. 

PUTTING CLOTHES TO SOAK. 

" A YOUNG housekeeper " is troubled at the idea of 
-ZTj^ " putting clotlies to soak " overnight. She is sure 
it must take two or three hours to do it, and asks, " How is 
one to do this, who lives in the country, where the ' modern 
improvements ' of hot water and cold and stationary tubs 
are not found, except in the houses of wealthy families ; but 
where all the water must be pumped or drawn by hand, and 
carried to the tubs by one who has all the work to do for 
husband and fomily, and perhaps keeps a few boarders beside 1 
To bring the water, soap the clothes, as they are put in the 
tub, would occupy two or three hours of the Sabbuih ; for, 
as you speak of washing Monday, we infer that you mean to 
soak the clothes Sunday." 

Yes, Sunday morning or evening, as is most convenient. 
We think it — like getting breakfast, washing dishes, making 
beds, etc., on Sunday — one of the necessary items of house- 
hold labor. True, some prefer to do this Saturday evening, 
but too long soaking yellows the clothes, and beside only 
part of them can be collected Saturday. Some also soak their 
clothes a half-hour Monday morning, but, in our judgment, 
very little is gained by that. We "should, however, by no 
means advocate the mode we have advised, if ttoo or three- 
hours of the Sabbath or of any other day in the week must 
be given to it. Twenty minutes or, if a large wash, half 
an hour, is abundant time. 

This young housekeeper evidently imagines that we must 
be giving theoretical advice, and not such as can be success- 
fully carried into practice. But in this, as in all that we 

2 



26 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

have offered, we speak only of " what we know, and testify 
of that which we have seen " and done. Ten years at the 
West, at a time when all " modern improvements " were un- 
known, and when we were so situated that the work for hus- 
band and little ones, and often several boarders, was, of neces- 
sity, ^one with one pair of hands, where the water Avas all to 
be draion, not pumj^ed, with now and then a " shake " or 
" chill," to fill up the measure of the week's work (and fever 
and ague, " out West," in those days, was a genuine article), 
compelled us to economize time, if not labor. We never found 
two or three hours to spend in putting clothes to soak. When 
supper was over, Saturday evening, dishes washed, and ba- 
bies to sleep, the water was drawn, tubs filled and covered, 
to keep the water free from dust, and, except the bedding and 
garments, to be changed Sabbath morning, all the dirty 
clothes accumulated through the week were " sorted " and 
laid in piles on the table, in the " wash-shed," covered over 
with the clothes-baskets, ready to be soaped and put into 
water. This last may be done before, dressing for church or, 
as we much prefer, before retiring. Sabbath evening. 

Such lessons, taught by the best schoolmaster in the world, 
necessity, are often far more valuable than any we can learn 
in later life, and under more easy circumstances. Of course 
no man, whose labor ends with the close of the day, who 
deserves the honored name of husband {house-bond), would 
need to be asked to put his strong arm to the work, so far as 
to draw the water and fill the tubs, after tea, in the twilight of 
Saturday evening ; while the wife and mother, whose work 
never ends till all are sleeping, is putting the little folks to 
bed and getting everything in readiness for breakfast Sunday 
morning. But often the nature of the husband's employment 
deprives him, by necessity, of the pleasure of assisting his 
wife. Then, if without servants, there is no other way but for 
her to prove " woman's equality with man " by doing it her- 



PUTTING CLOTHES TO SOAK. 27 

self. After all, there are many harder things than drawing 
the good clear water from the wcdl. 

N^ow, with water in the tubs, clothes laid in separate par- 
cels, plenty of soap dissolved, or a nice barrel of soft soap 
close at hand, does not our "young housekeeper" think the 
clothes could be soaped and put into the tub in less than 
half an hour'? Would there not be plenty of time after 
breakfast, before dressing for church, to perform this neces- 
sary labor as we think it 1 Or if making beds or uneasy chil- 
dren consumed too much time in the morning, how long 
would it take to throw on a wrapper just before retiring, when 
all is quiet at night, and have the clothes all at soak 1 The 
answer to these questions depends on two things, — are you an 
early riser ? have you such established system about all your 
labors as to secure a time as well as a place for everything 1 

There is one other point that may as well receive attention 
while we are on this subject. 

Many are in the habit of changing bed-linen Saturday 
night, to avoid what may seem like extra labor Sunday 
morning, in accordance with their ideas of a strict observance 
of the Sabbath. "We cannot think this wise. It certainly 
does not meet our ideas of that " cleanliness that is next to 
godliness." We think it should be a matter of principle to 
have everything as pure, as sweet, and clean Sabbath morn- 
ing as is possible. All one's clothes are put on fresh on that 
morning ; table-cloths and napkins come right from the 
drawer. If these are all brought out spotless in their purity, 
in honor of the Lord's day, then why should not our beds 
al-o rejoice in the whitest of linen 1 We think it a grateful 
and appropriate way of beginning our Sabbatli ; and if the 
bed-linen is laid out Saturday night, as it should always be, 
we do not see how it can occupy more time to put on clean 
things than those which are tumbled and soiled. We think 
the objections to it are of that kind spoken of as being " wise 
above that which is written." 



28 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

VIII. 

PATIENT CONTINUANCE IN WELL-DOING. 

AFTEE one of those days of perplexity and annoyance 
that will occasionally come to all housekeepers, old or 
young, order having at last been restored, and peace beginning 
to dawn out of the confusion, we took up the pen to begin 
our weekly talk with young friends. But pausing for a mo- 
ment's rest and deliberation, our thoughts took form and life, 
and led us into an imaginary conversation with a young house- 
keeper, jDassing though the same trials we had just been 
battling with. We think we cannot do better than send the 
thoughts and scenes that rose before our mind, as they so 
truly illustrate our idea of the necessity of constant watch- 
fulness combined with "patient continuance in well-doing." 
We think most of oiu* readers, who have just begun life's 
cares, will have already learned that imagination does not, in 
this case, equal the reality. 

Scene. — A lady's chamber, and the occupant in tears. 
Enter a Motherly Talker. 

— Why ! what can be the matter % You, so bright and 
cheerful usually, in despondency and tears ! Some great 
trouble must have befallen you ! 

" I am completely discouraged ! I ought never to have 
undertaken housekeeping. It is evident I shall never make 
a good housekeeper, and I %vill not be a poor one. After all 
my boasting when I first began, I am ashamed to tell you 
now how miserably I have failed. But ' open confession is 
good for the soul,' and when you have had the whole story, 
say if you think I am worth the teaching." 

Why, how humble our little woman has become ! Some 



PATIENT CONTINUANCE IN WELL-DOING. 29 

" lion in tlic way," and, doubtless, of your own creating, 
has disheartened you for the present, we think. Tell us, 
without hesitation, what troubles you, and we will see if we 
cannot find a " silver lining " to this cloud, as it is easy to 
do in most cases. 

" Well, listen, and tell me, when you learn how I have 
been blinded, if I have not cause to hide in the valley of 
humiliation. 

" I have labored hard to train my Bridget, to the best of 
my ability, and, with all her inefficiencies, have felt and 
boasted tliat she was really neat. That being the case, I felt 
myself capable of keeping so strict a watch of her weak points, 
that she could not hide her mistakes so deftly but that I 
would find and try to teach her to rectify them. I had, at 
the commencement of my new life, arranged everything in 
the nicest order ; and having started the machinery, Bridget 
seeming so ready to carry out my rules, I was confident that, 
by keeping up a careful supervision, I could not fail, and was 
in a fair way to become a bright and shining light among my 
sister hoiisekeepers. 

" Well, Bridget left me yesterday. I did n't much care. 
There would be no trouble in replacing her, and doubtless 
securing a more capable girl. Beside, a few days' work all to 
myself would be no hardship ; for had I not been so faithful 
in my oversight of all domestic affairs, that everything about 
my house must be in perfect order % 

" I was in the habit of visiting kitchen and store-closet 
daily. The sink seemed clean, the range well polished, the 
boiler bright, and dishes all in order, and making quite a 
pretty display on the shelves. Ah ! if I had handled each 
article, looked into each pot or kettle, instead of being con- 
tent to see only the outside, I should have soon learned that 
all was falsely fair ! Why ! everything was slippery, greasy, 
dirty, or leaking, except those which were placed in the front 



30 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

rank, for show. I am sick and lame from just this morn- 
ing's cleaning and scrubbing, and am not half through even 
the kitchen. Half the dishes that looked so nicely on the 
shelves are ' nicked ' or cracked ; holes burnt in the sauce- 
pans, and bits of old cloth drawn through to stgp the leak, 
— who can tell how long they have remained there, gathering 
filth, or from what dirty rag they were torn ! 

" How often I have praised Bridget for keeping the kitchen 
coffee and tea pot so bright. But when I took them down 
this morning, lo ! the coffee-pot was minus a handle, and the 
teapot bottomless ! They were placed with the perfect side 
in sight on the shelves, and the broken parts wholly con- 
cealed ; while my best things were doubtless used in the 
kitchen. If I mnst take up each article, day by day, to be 
sure* of their condition, I could do nothing else through the 
day. 

" In the cellar a barrel stood, in its proper place, filled 
with kindling. I reached my hand in hastily to get paper to 
start the fire, and quickly snatched it out, cut and bleeding. 
There were only a few papers on the top of the barrel, and 
all the rest of its contents was broken glass and china ! 

" Then my store-closet is kept locked, and the key in my 
own pocket. I have always handed out everything — sugar, 
spices, sweetmeats, etc. — myself, yet I find much sugar, 
sweetmeats, spices, and jellies missing ! Now that my sus- 
picions are aroused, I see what has gone. If / keej} the l-eys 
myself, and yet am not safe from pilfering, what can I do 1 
But other housekeepers have not this trouble : where lies the 
secret of their success, and my most humiliating failure % " 

Is^ow, although this is simply an imaginary scene, there is 
f;ir more truth than fiction in it. Many housekeepers of late 
years have often had the same experience, and worse. This 
evil is growing upon us rapidly. If deliverance comes not to 
us, — perhaps through China, — our housekeepers have a 



PATIENT CONTINUANCE IN WELL-DOING. 31 

gloomy prospect. The secret of apparent success with some 
often arises from the fact, that keeping two or three girls em- 
ployed, when one leaves without warning, those who remain 
are expected to manage as best they can, till the vacant place 
is hlled. In these cases the mistress does not see with her 
own eyes all that takes place behind the scenes. Such " igno- 
rance is bliss," perhaps, but certainly not the best economy, 
AAHiereas, if housekeepers are left alone without any help for 
a few days, and are obliged to take the work into their own 
hands, they learn several unexpected lessons which are not 
easy to forget. They see the evils which have been quietly 
accumulating under the carelessness or deceit of servants, 
and will not be so readily blinded the second time. 

When you have servants about you, it is not possible to 
handle every article, to look into every corner, daily. One 
might as well make no pretence of keeping " help." And 
while only a slavery of the most exact and unfailing 
watchfulness can save you from many leaks and much 
extravagant waste, yet, by this course, you may lose, by the 
constant irritation of disposition, more than you can save 
pecuniarily. The only safe way is to make things as secure 
as possible ; first, as to the character of servants when you 
engage them ; secondly, by way of guarding them from the 
temptation of open closets and immunity from oversight. 

So long as servants can and do forge " characters " or 
" recommendations," or use skeleton keys, — and many do 
this, — we are greatly at their mercy, unless we look the evil 
squarely in the face, and attempt to find a remedy. We are 
told that to speak plainly of these things — which are truly of 
frequent occurrence — we open the eyes of the servants as well 
as their mistresses, and tempt them to do the wrong wlaich, 
but for the speaking of it, they never would have thought 
of. Let no one believe this. It is entirely a mistaken no- 
tion. Our ladies have no idea how thoroughly posted their 



32 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPEES. 

servants are — even some of the most trusted — in every 
evil of tliis kind. A better way is to meet any such dan- 
gers openly ; not willingly stumble along blindfold, lest we 
should see what we cannot help fearing is going on in our 
midst. See it, and try to overcome it by greater caution. 
Never, under any consideration, take a written " recommen- 
dation " of a girl. Go to the lady who is said to have writ- 
ten the " character," and learn the truth. That destroys all 
danger from forged certificates. If it is thought too much 
trouble, then you must not complain of imposition. 

Again, if you judge best to keep locked closets and store- 
rooms, there are many patent locks, not expensive, which no 
" pass " or " skeleton key " can open. Put such on your store- 
closet and places which, you most desire to guard, and you at 
once secure yourself against another evil. 

And " patient continuance in well-doing," frequent, care- 
ful, but kindly oversight, thorough but not suspicious inspec- 
tion of kitchen, store-rooms, closets, etc., will lessen many 
others ; the remainder we must endure until, among all 
the reformatory movements of this progressive age, some 
good spirit shall effect a deliverance from the heaviest bur- 
den that oppresses the housekeeper, — unfaithful, inefficient 
servants. 



IX. 

PREPARING FOR THE COUNTRY. 

JUNE, the month of roses, is near, and all who are com- 
pelled to live a large part of the year in the city are 
looking forward to some weeks of rest from ever- ringing bells, 
interminable flights of stairs, and all the wear and tear that 
belong peculiarly to a city life. But there is much to be 



PREPARING FOR THE COUNTRY. 33 

done before you can safely close the doors and leave the house 
and its content under lock and key, for the summer. Every 
part of the house should be thoroughly examined, and none 
but the eye of the mistress can be depended upon. Each 
article that is to be left behind must be carefidly looked 
after. Winter garments, furs, and such heavy shawls as may 
not be thought advisable to take to the country, have of 
course been aired, beaten, sprinkled with Poole's or Lyon's 
insect-powder, wrapped up in linen or paper, and sealed so 
that no moth can find an entrance. Even if done up in linen, 
it is Ijettcr to put over that a strong wrapping-paper, and seal 
up with mucilage. If this is faithfully done, moths cannot, 
or rather will not, wish to get in. We are inclined to think 
that Poole's powder is the best ; it is certainly the most dis- 
agreeable, and that speaks well for its efficacy. Camphor or 
cedar trunks, made expressly for packing furs, woolens, etc., 
are a great convenience and very safe ; but for those who 
have none, sprinkling Avith the powder and sealing in thick 
paper is, though more troublesome, equally reliable. 

If the house is to be closed for some time, a very thorough 
cleaning of paint, windows, plated knobs, and bell-pulls is a 
useless waste of time and strength, as they will all be bronzed 
in a few weeks ; but every part should be well swept, and 
aU accumidation of dust removed. In the attic or any un- 
carpeted room, where the boards of the floor have shrunk, 
leaving open spaces between the boards, much dust and lint 
will gather in the crevices thus formed, and become favorite 
nests for moths. All such places should be swept with great 
care. A stiff" brush should be used to clear every particle of 
dirt out, and then scrub the floor with hot soapsuds. When 
it is dry, sprinkle insect-powder in the seams. This done, 
and well done, we think there need be no hesitation in leav- 
ing a house unoccupied for a few weeks ; certainly we should 
feel far less solicitude than to leave a servant in it. 



34 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEKPERS. 

Insect-powder should be put round the corners and edges 
of such carpets as are to remain on the floor for the summer. 
There is a little bellows that generally comes with Poole's 
powder, or can be had at house-furnishing stores, by which 
you can blow the powder under the edges much more thor- 
oughly than in any other way. 

I^ext, see that all food is removed from the house ; meat, salt 
or fresh butter, flour, meal, bread, or cake should be disposed 
of. Such articles soon spoil and make the air impure and offen- 
sive ; or, if not offensive, it entices rats and mice into the house 
to prepare work and trouble for you all through the winter. 

The furnace and ranges must be cleared out, and if any 
repairs are necessary they should be done now. It will an- 
noy you far more to have these to attend to when you return 
and are in the confusion and haste of getting " settled " for 
the winter, with the thousand interruptions to which you 
win then be liable. The top of the range should be rubbed 
in sweet-oil, or lard that has no salt in it, to prevent rust. 
Flat-irons, bake-pans, soup-boilers, all iron-ware, must also be 
oiled, wrapped up in paper, and hung up, that you may find 
your utensils in perfect order when you return, needing only 
a good washing in hot soapsuds to be ready, for immediate 
use. Have locks, keys, bolts, and bars in a good usable con- 
dition, that you may feel sure that nothing is left without 
strong fastenings. 

All this preparation is hard work, and you are very thank- 
ful when the last trunk is locked, the last bundle or basket 
fastened, and this labor ended. But the comfort and satis- 
faction of knowing by your own actual observation and care 
that all has been done, and waits your return in the fall, 
with no mark of carelessness to rise up in reproach against 
you, will be ample compensation. Yet, at the last minute, 
take one more journey from cellar to attic, to " make assur- 
ance doubly sure," and then, leaving all that care behind 
you, go on your way rejoicing. 



HEEDLESSNESS. 35 

X. 

HEEDLESSNESS. 

THEEE are many annoyances that fall to a housekeeper's 
lot which seem very insignificant when spoken of, and 
too trivial to put on paper ; but they are grievances never- 
theless, and like a wasp's or bee's sting, though small, not 
easily borne ; and when they follow each other in quick suc- 
cession, and are constantly repeated, the accumulation, like a 
Avhole swarm of bees, wiU tax the grace and patience of the 
strongest. It is the little frets of daily life that, when 
summed up, become almost unendurable ; and to them is 
added the mortification of knowing that friends who are only 
" lookers on," having never themselves touched the burden 
with so much as theu- little finger, feel no sympathy, but on 
the contrary almost a good-natured contempt, that any one 
should be so weak as to be shaken by such trifling troubles 
and vexations. But they are not trifling ; if they Avere only 
occasional they would be ; but they are of daily, hourly 
occurrence, and, because they are never ending, make a house- 
keeper's responsible position one that demands self-control 
and patience of a higher order than any other position to 
which woman aspires. There is a dignity in being burnt 
at the stake that enables one to rise above the pain ; but to 
be harried to death with briers and brambles is very hunuli- 
ating, yet a torture none the less. 

Many things that are really untidy are not noticed until, 
through neglect, they increase, and at last cause great confu- 
sion in the home affairs, simply because the young house- 
keeper's attention has not been called to them, or she does 
not yet understand how to regulate and control them. Igno- 



36 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ranee may be bliss, but it is of a nature that leads to mis- 
cluof in the end. 

Let us point out some of these petty troubles, and see what 
they amount to and how they may be removed. 

What more disagreeable and annoying than to have the 
vapors or odors that arise from washing or cooking pervade 
the Avhole house, giving to it the sickening smell of the low- 
est class boarding-houses 1 When seated quietly in the parlor, 
it comes so gradually upon one that it is hardly noticed ; but 
step for a moment into the fresh air, and on your return you 
will be greatly disgusted at the fumes that half suffocate you 
as you open the door. This infliction can be escaped only 
by keeping the doors of the kitchen or hall leading from it 
tightly closed. Yet it seems almost impossible to teach a 
servant that just " pushing the door to " is not shutting it, 
and the smells of the kitchen will escape as readily through 
a half-closed as through an open door. There is no help 
for this evil but watchfulness and constant reminder. You 
can put springs or rubber straps on the door, and while they 
are new and stiff they Avill swing to with force enough to 
close it ; but the spring will soon grow careless, like other 
servants, and by and by not shut the door entirely. As 
well leave it wide open as ajar. Besides, springs are very 
troublesome and inconvenient, and, in the passing of servants 
with their hands full, endanger the dishes. And, worse than 
all, we have noticed that a spring on the door has a singu- 
larly inflammatory effect on the disposition of the servants ; 
and after they have been hit or a few dishes broken once or 
twice by it, the spring suddenly breaks or is cut. Of course 
it broke itself, or nobody/ — that most mysterious mischief- 
maker — did it. The watch and care of the mistress is the 
only remedy. 

Another careless habit which often proves a great grief of 
heart to the thorough housekeeper, and to which the atten- 



HEEDLESSNESS. 37 

tion of the beginner should be directed from the first, is the 
use of dish-towels and dish-cloths, instead of "holders," to 
remove pots, stew-pans, and kettles from the fire, or meats 
and jDies from the oven. It is a habit that is harder to 
conquer than almost any other. The most ample supply of 
holders may be provided, yet the mistress seldom enters the 
kitchen but she sees the nice crash towel caught up to re- 
move a boiling pot from the stove, or a gridiron from the fire, 
and if it is not tossed into the sink, scorched and smeared, it 
is a marvel. And the " holder " you had so neatly made 
but a few days before, now a mass of grease, stove-crock, and 
filth, is perhaps lying in the coal-hod ready to be thrown 
into the fire, where you will be the least likely to find it out ; 
for to wash a holder never enters into the heads of those who 
use, or rather abuse, them so badly. 

A cooKs holder should be made of some strong, dark ma- 
terial, a piece of tape about a half-yard long sewed on one 
corner, and a large hook on the tape to hook into cook's belt 
or apron-string. It is then always ready for use. 

" And will she remember to use it 1 " 

Doubtful ; certainly not without your watchful care. But 
be sure and have them ready, and then strictly endeavor to 
secure their proper use. 

The ironing-holder should be of soft, light-colored material, 
that dirt and stains may bear testimony against its use about 
clean clothes, till it is washed. Harsh material is severe on 
the hands when used for hours on a hot iron. When out of 
use, the ironing-holder must be put away with the ironing- 
slieet, bosom-board, etc., that they may not be used in the 
kitchen. 

Again : Avatch the dish-towels ; see that they are not 
thrown on the floor or into a chair to be sat on by the first 
one who happens in, and perhaps the next minute used to wipe 
the fine china or cover over the bread fresh from the oven. 



38 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Such tilings are constantly being clone. Do our housekeepers 
know it ] Of course they never do such things themselves ; 
but if they once gave it a moment's sober thought, would 
they not, for their own comfort, endeavor to prevent its being 
done again % Who would Avish to eat or drink from china 
wiped with towels so misused % "Who would like to eat bread 
that had been wrapped up in a dish-towel, however clean ] 
They should be washed and boiled every day after the din- 
ner-dishes are out of the way, hung out to dry, and fresh, 
clean ones used at tea and till after dinner the next day, 
when the first set are brought in for the dishes, and the sec- 
ond washed, boiled, and hung out, — thus securing clean 
towels for each day. But no matter how faithfully this rule 
may be carried out, no dish-towel should ever be used for 
bread, no bread-cloth should be used to wipe meat, no meat- 
cloth used for fish. Each contracts a taste or smell belong- 
ing to its own peculiar work, and each should be marked and 
employed for its own apppropriate use, and no other. 



XL 

WASHING FLANNELS. 

" /^ AIST you tell me what has been done to my blankets 1 
\_J Not a year in use, and look at them ! Fortunately 

I put but two into the wash this week, and now I think I 

shall never dare to have another washed. My pretty, soft, 

white blankets absolutely ruined ! " 

Not ruined, as far as use is concerned, but the beauty has 

departed, never to return. Did you overlook the washing 

of them yourself] 

" Most certainly not ! I never did such a thing in my 



WASHING FLANNELS. 39 

life. I told the laundress that I wanted her to be very par- 
ticular, and she assured me that she was fully competent to 
the work. I have just been speaking to her about them, 
and she can't tell what should make them look so badly, un- 
le.:s there was something wrong about the wool." 

That is simply absurd. Did you question her as to her 
mode of washing them 1 

" 0, no. I should not have known if she had managed 
incorrectly, and to question her would only have exposed 
my own ignorance to a servant, and that I am very loth to 
do ; but she said she rubbed them very faithfully, soaped 
them thoroughly, and boiled them in good, clean suds." 

Soaped and boiled blankets, or woolen goods of any kind ! 
No wonder they are brown and muddy, and as thick as a 
board ! 

Blankets that are carefully managed will not require wash- 
ing often ; yovirs have been in use so short a time they cer- 
tainly could not have needed it, unless they were accident- 
ally soiled. 

" No, they looked very fresh and fair ; but I had supposed 
blankets should be washed every fall and spring. I never 
asked why." 

0, no ! They are always put between the sheets and 
bedspreads, not in contact with the body at all, and it would 
be long before anything but an accident or the greatest care- 
lessness could soil them. 

There are people who will lie down for a nap in the after- 
noon between the blanhets I The housekeeper Avho can pa- 
tiently or silently endure that must be nearer akin to the 
angels than we generally find them. True, no woman would 
be guilty of such carelessness ; but ignorance is an excuse 
for many short-comings. But it is not this class of men 
that we intend to have at home in charge of household 
affairs when women go to Congress. 



40 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Occasionally, in a fair, clear day, and when there is a 
moderate wind, it is well to i^in blankets on the clothes-line 
in the yard, that they may be well aired and freshened, and 
whatever dust may have settled in them be whipped out by 
the wind. When they really need washing, the first step is 
to see that there is a good quantity of boiling water ready. 
Next, select the largest tub and fill half full of boiling 
water ; dissolve and stir thoroughly into it two table-spoon- 
fuls of powdered borax and sufficient soap to make a good 
lather, but on no account rub soap on the blanhets. Put into 
the tub but one blanket at a time. Shake it to and fro with 
the clothes-stick till perfectly wet through, then press it 
under the water to remain till cool enough, to use your 
hands in it, when each part should be examined very care- 
fully, gently rubbing or squeezing the suds through it. Hard 
rubbing fulls woolens. When sure that all spots or dirt are 
removed, wring them into a second tub of boiling water 
into which you have thoroughly stirred some blueing. If 
your first suds are strong enough, the blankets will retain 
suffici^.nt soap for the rinsing water, which in woolens 
requires a little soap. Shake the blanket up and down in 
this water, with, the clothes-stick, till it has flowed through, 
every part. Then, while the water is still hot, wring it. It 
requires two persons to wring and shake out a bed-blanket. 
They shonld take it by the ends and snap vigorously, to 
remove all the water as far as possible. Then carry it to the 
line, throw it over, and pull it smooth, bringing the hems 
straight and true, and pin on to the line strongly. When 
half dry, turn it lengtliAvise on the line, and pull the sel- 
vedges together in a straight line, so that no part may draw 
up in cockles or full unevenly. 

It is not well to wash woolens of any kind on a rainy or 
cloudy day ; but for blankets it is ruinous. A bright sunny 
day with a brisk Avind is very desirable, as it snaps out the 



WASHING FLANNELS. 41 

water, giving it no chance to settle. When the blanket is 
perfectly dry, fold very evenly, but never press or iron it. 

Washed in this way, although your blankets may not be 
quite as white as when new, the change will be hardly 
noticeable, and they will be soft and fleecy until worn out. 
A tall, large tub with a pounder or dasher on springs, fast- 
ened across the tub, like the old-fashioned pounding-barrel, or 
the tub and dasher of the Metropolitan Washing- Machine, 
is one of the most convenient and desirable tubs to wash 
blankets in, as the washing can be done at once without 
waiting for the water to cool. The pounder should be used 
gently, as harsh rubbing or pounding knots the fibers of 
woolens, but the spring dasher keeps the water filtering 
through every part without any hard usage. 

Wash flannels in the same way, only bring them from the 
line while quite damp ; pull out and fold evenly. If any 
spot has " fulled " or " cockled," when it is a little damp you 
can pull it smooth. EoU up the articles tight, for a little 
while, uotil dampened all over alike, and then press them 
till dry, puUing the garment taut from the iron as you press. 

There are many theories about washing woolen goods. 
Several of the " Household Guides," of late, recommend 
washing in cold water. Some even advise soaking them 
all night, claiming that they do not felt or full any more 
than when washed in hot water, and are not as liable to 
grow yellow. But we cannot think this idea correct. Pro- 
fessor Youmans, in his " Book of Household Science," de- 
scribes the difference, in the structure of fiber, between woolen 
and cotton and linen fabrics, with a drawing of the straight, 
smooth form of linen or cotton filaments, and the toothed 
and jagged structures of woolen fabrics, and says : — 

" It is evident that the latter, Ijy compression and friction, 
will mat and lock together, while cotton and linen fibers, 
having no such asperities of surface, are incapable of any- 



42 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

thing like close mechanical adherence. Hence the peculiar 
capabilities of woolen fabrics of felting, fulling, and shrink- 
ing, caused by the binding together of the ultimate fila- 
ments. We see, therefore, the impolicy of excessive rub- 
bing in washing woolen fabrics, and of changing them from 
hot to cold water, as the contraction that it causes is essen- 
tially a fulling process. The best experience seems to indi- 
cate that woolen cloths should never be put into cold water, 
but always into warm, and if changed from water to water, 
they should go from hot to hotter. In the most skillful modes 
of cleansing delaines for printing, the plan is, to place them 
first in water at 100° or 120°, and then treat them eight or 
ten times with water 10° hotter in each change." 



XII. 
JUNE CARES. 



THERE is much of romance and beauty in the month of 
June, partly imaginary and partly real. During the 
frosts and snows of winter, the sharp w^nds and dreary 
storms of spring, our thoughts turn with most affectionate 
longings towards June, — the month of loves and roses. Yet, 
when she comes, hardly any other month of the whole year 
brings so many little frets and annoyances as the month of 
June. 

The first two or three days, so warm and balmy, lull us 
into a dreamy state of delightful rest and security ; but 
Ave wake to find damp, foggy mornings, with mists so dark 
and dense that you long to cut a window through for the 
sunshine, which you feel must be held in durance vile behind 
it. Particularly is this noticeable if living near a river. All 



JUNE CARES. 43 

through the first half of the month we have cold, stormy 
days, then suddenly damp, sultry, sticky ones. In the morn- 
ing we are uncertain how to dress. If warm, and we put 
on cool, thin garments, perhaps in an hour or two a chilly 
wind sweeps by, and, shivering and quite uncomfortable, 
Ave resort to a breakfast shawl or sack ; they are a little too 
much, and we drop them, only too glad, in a few moments, 
to draw them close about us again ; or, in an obstinate fit, we 
refuse to yield to the demands made by these sudden changes 
for warmer clothing, and a heavy cold is the result. The 
wind has a decided partiality for the east most of the time in 
early June. If it veers for a few hours to the south, it is in 
an unsteady, wavering manner, and soon turns back to the 
east again. The result is, that the first half of June will 
very likely keep you in an uncomfortable, dissatisfied state 
of mind. Everytliing molds ; clothes grow damp in drawers 
or wardrobes, or the washing is caught out in a shower, just 
as it is half ready to be taken in. It is decidedly " falling 
weather." Be Avatchful to guard against any infelicities that 
may follow these changes, patiently accepting Avhat they 
bring that cannot be avoided. That 's the only true way. 
This variable weather usually lasts till the middle of June, 
sometimes later, when we may look for more settled but 
very warm weather. 

The flies have been reconnoitring, - — sending out scouts, 
during those few weeks of mild weather ; but as the warm 
days become more permanent, they come on with their main 
army. We have put the moths to rest, but these intruders, 
if not as mischievous, are quite as hard to manage, and 
even as persistent. There are various kinds of " fly-paper," 
around which, if ready for them, certainly lie large numbers 
of the slain to certify to the virtues of the paper. It is 
doubtless of some benefit, but does not by any means free 
us from this great vexation. It is at least a dirty, mussy 



44 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

remedy, requiring one to be incessantly on the watch lest flies 
who have tasted the paper fall into food, or lie about in an 
unseemly manner. If servants in the kitchen or dining-room 
have any gifts toward neatness, this constant litter makes 
them cross ; if they have not that gift, the careless way they 
allow the dead Hies to lie about, and the fear that they may 
approach too near the cooking, may make the mistress cross 
also, — two evils to be scrupulously avoided. 

During the heat of summer we are compelled to keep open 
doors and windows, but these lawless intruders know, appar- 
ently, the moment when we lift the latch or raise the win- 
dow, and swarm in upon us in myriads. To secure the air 
and baffle the flies, we have found mosquito netting a 
great help. A simple frame of pine, about an inch and a 
half wide, fitted closely inside the lower sash, with mosquito 
lace or net nailed across it (galvanized nails or tacks should 
be used, to avoid rust), is the most effectual safeguard we 
have ever tried. The frame must not be quite as high as 
the lower sash, as room is needed to push in the spring to 
open or close the window. The outside doors and those lead- 
ing from the kitchen to the dining-room may have frames fitted 
in the same manner, — the frame having a cross-piece in the 
middle. It can be hung on hinges, having a hook in the 
cross-piece to fasten it with, while the- real door may be 
kept open all day, excluding the flies, but leaving freedom for 
the air to circulate. By a few days' extra care the family 
will soon learn to close this net door, or swarms of flies will 
quickly remind them of any heedlessness in this matter. A 
wire net is the most durable, although more expensive at 
first ; but it will soon repay the extra expense, for lace or net- 
ting must be renewed every year. Yet notwithstanding 
these precautions, the flies will often effect an entrance, es- 
pecially into the dining-room when dishing the dinner, or 
when merry, heedless children rush in and out, always for- 



JUNE CARES. 45 

getting to close tlie door. Cut old newspapers in strips an 
incli or an inch and a half wide, nearly the whole length of 
the sheet, leavmg only about two inches uncut at the top. 
Take a smooth round stick about two feet long, and laying 
three or four of these cut papers together, wind the uncut 
part about the stick. Tie the paper on with strong twine, 
very tightly, so that it will not slip, leaving the long ribbons 
of paper hanging loose, and you have a most effectual fly- 
hrush. Cheap caKco is still better, as paper tears easily and 
litters the room. Keep one always on hand for the kitchen, 
and two for the parlor and dining-room. If the flies have se- 
cured an entrance during the dishing of dinner, when it is 
served spread a large piece of netting over the table to protect 
the food from dust or the flies you may brush down. Open 
the door, let tAVO persons take each a fly-brush, and, standing 
opposite the door, swmg the brush in concert through the 
room swiftly toward the door, and it will be amusing and 
gratifying to observe how hastily the intruders will vacate 
the premises. One or two well-directed charges will leave 
you free to shut the net door, remove the netting from. the 
table, and partake of your dinner unmolested. 



46 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XIII. 
PURE AIR AND THOROUGH VENTILATION". 

AT aU seasons of the year it is important tliat the 
house should be kept dry and well ventilated ; but 
extra precautions are necessary in warm weather. The 
nights are often close and sultry ; windows are left open with 
the hope — often a vain one — that an occasional breeze may 
deign to sweep through the rooms, and assist us in the labor 
of breathing. And here is danger. The night air, what 
there may be of it, and the heavy morning fogs, fiU the house 
with dampness. The bedclothes are moist and disagreeable. 
The garments laid off on retiring at night, if left near an 
open window, are heavy with dew. Fever and ague, rheu- 
matism, cholera, and dysentery lurk always in such an atmos- 
phere. One of the best preventives is a quick blaze, in an 
opea fireplace or stove, immediately after rising ; no matter 
how warm the weather may be. A handful of brush or light 
wood, just to make a blaze, expel the bad air, and dri/ the 
rooms, not heat them, is all that is needed. 

Those who can be in the country during the summer wiU. 
have no difficulty in finding plenty of brush, — dead branches, 
or sprouts, or bushes, cut off in clearing up the fields or 
hedges. On a rainy day, when outdoor work or play cannot 
be advantageously attended to, a child could easily cut them 
up into foot or foot and a half lengths, tie them in fagots, 
and pile them neatly in the wood-house, ready for use. Keep 
one of these fagots always in the fireplace or stove, ready 
for lighting every morning. It will dry and purify the air 
wonderfully, and save doctors' bills and much sickness. 

Aside from the ill effects of dampness, the air is full of 



PURE AIR AND THOROUGH VENTILATION. 47 

impurities arising from the body, and. more injurious through 
the night than in the day. Professor Youmans says ; — 

" The escape of offensive matter from tlie body becomes 
most obvious when, from out of the pure air in the morn- 
ing, one enters an unventilated bedroom where one or two 
have slept the night before. Every one must have experi- 
enced the sickening and disgusting odor upon going into 
such a room, though its occupants themselves do not recog- 
nize it. The nose, although an organ of excessive sensibility, 
and capable of perceiving the presence of offensive matters 
where the most delicate chemical tests fail, is nevertheless easily 
blunted, and what at the first impression is pre-eminently 
disgusting, t^uickly becomes less offensive to the smell ; but the 
impure air has not departed. Two persons, occupying a bed 
for eight hours, impart to the sheets by insensible perspira- 
tion, and to the air by breathing, a pound of watery vapor 
charged with latent animal poison. When the air in other 
inhabited rooms is not often changed, the water of exhala- 
tion, thus loaded with impurities, condenses upon the furni- 
ture, windows, and walls, dampening their surfaces, and 
running down in unwholesome streams. 

" Yet we are not to regard the human body as necessarily 
impure, or a focus of repulsive emanations. It is not by the 
natural and necessary working of the vital machinery that 
the air is poisoned, but by its artificial confinement, and the 
accumulation of deleterious substances." 

In speaking of the prevalent inattention to a perfect venti- 
lation in our homes, and the need of great care in this respect, 
if we woidd secure health, Youmans also refers to the " gas- 
eous exhalations, of every sort, that escape from our kitch- 
ens, filling the house with unpleasant odors ; the imperfect 
combustion of oil and tallow in lighting our homes ; the 
defective burning of gas-jets " ; and the injurious effects upon 
health, — causing severe head-aches, if nothing worse ; to the 



48 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

destruction to health from the poisonous influences of green 
paper-hangings upon the air, from which the-hne particles, 
loosened by dusting or moving about the room, are set afloat 
in the atmosphere, and are often very deadly. 

Then from the decayed vegetables — carelessly allowed to 
remain sometimes for days in our cellars — and the damp 
and stagnant air of cellars and basements come exhalations 
most destructive to health. Even dry closets and rooms in 
upper stories become moldy and musty if not often and 
thoroughly aired. "To be pure and healthy, air requires 
continual circulation ; but cellars are rarely either ventilated 
or made dry by water-proof walls or floors, and are usually 
damp, cold, unclean, and moldy. 

" The air from these basements and cellars ascends to the 
upper rooms in such small quantities that it does not produce 
immediate disease ; yet it so gradually undermines the health 
as not to be perceptible. Many an invalid, who fancies 
himself benefited by the change of air in going to another 
residence, is really only improved by escaping the moldy 
atmosphere that arises from beneath his own ground-floor." 

By quoting thus largely from Professor Toumans, we bring 
good authority for the particular and earnest advice we have 
offered to our " young housekeepers " with regard to the dry- 
ing and ventilating every part of their houses. "We doubt 
not many a one, who has begun with sound health, has 
gradually sunk into a confirmed invahd, when the principal 
cause could be traced back to carelessness in this seemingly 
unimportant duty. And those who are thus slowly poisoned 
by the impure air which comes through this neglect of duty 
are the most ready recipients of all infectious and epidemic 
diseases. 

It is always well to have either a bath fuU of water near 
where one sleeps, or, if no bath, a pail or tub full set into 
the room, as water is one of the best disinfectants, cleansing 



MILK AND BUTTER. 49 

the air by taking up all the impurities from it as fast as they 
arise. But this water should be let off in the morning, and 
fresh water used for bathing or washing ; and if you need 
drinking water in your bedroom, — and it is well always to 
have it near, — do not let it remain open in your room, as it 
absorbs impurities, and would be unfit for drinking ; but 
either have a lid to your pitcher or cover it over with a thin 
cloth, to keep dust and insects out, and set it on the ledge 
outside your window, in the pure, fresh air. 



XIV. 
MILK AND BUTTER. 

JULY and August are trying months for those who have 
charge of milk and butter, unless the work to be done 
is performed in large establishments devoted entirely to it. 
"When a milk-house is built under large trees, to shield it 
from the fierce heat of the midday sun, with a stream of pure 
cold water running through it, the labor is diminished full 
one half. Indeed, we should not call it labor, but an exhil- 
arating amusement to take charge of such an one as we 
saAv, a few weeks ago, in Norwich, Chenango County, New 
York. We have not thought of it since without a longing, 
amounting almost to coveting our neighbor's work. To find 
this house among the trees, away from the confusion and 
turmoil of the town, which is- shaken by the ceaseless 
din of more noisy occupations, was most restful and tran- 
quillizing ; the music of the rich, green leaves among the 
long sweeping branches, and the murmur of the restless 
brook, could not fail to give a spring and elasticity to the 
spirits that must, in a great measure, overcome the sense of 

3 . D 



50 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

fatigue. This was our first impression, as we stood outside 
the unpretentious building, and it was in nowise changed 
when we stepped upon tlie smooth floor, as white as good 
soap, fresh water, and a wilKng arm could make it. 

Our attention was immediately attracted by the sound of 
machinery. In the farther corner of the room stood two 
large barrel-churns, the dashers of both moving up and down 
with an easy, uniform motion, impelled by the wheel and belt 
overhead, to which they were attached. 'No fears for the ach- 
ing back and tired arms neutralized our enjoyment, for the 
woman in charge sat, resting by the open door, till the butter 
was ready to be taken out into the " butter-worker." 

A large trough, some twelve or fourteen feet long, six or 
eight wide, and perhaps four deep (we simply use our Yankee 
privilege of guessing at the dimensions), and hned with tin, 
was placed in the middle of the room, where the curd for 
" skimmed cheese," made from milk after all the cream was 
removed, was " set." This and the churning arrangements 
occupied half the building. The other half was a large tank, 
through which the water from the brook flowed continually. 
Into this reservoir, always fuU, taU. tin cans, between two 
or three feet high, and perhaps a foot across, were set. Little 
danger that milk in that cool bed would sour before aU the 
cream had been risen. About this tank ran a wide shelf or 
ledge, on which stood great tubs of golden butter waiting to 
be sent to market. 

In the second story, equally cool and clean, large shelves 
were placed, where the cheeses are kept to dry, or ripen, en- 
tirely separate from the butter. 

This is a very tame description of a scene of labor which 
was to us exceedingly interesting. We must now hasten to 
speak of that which is real care and labor, — the manage- 
ment of smaU dairies, where butter is only made for home 
consumption. 



MILK AND BUTTER. 51 

The most scruiDulous cleanliness must be recognized as 
being absolutely indispensable. If all else is done to perfec- 
tion, and that is wanting, you cannot have good butter. As 
you skim one mess, be sure that the shelf on which it stood 
is faithfully scrubbed and left unoccupied until it becomes 
dry. Every utensil used about milk or cream shoidd be 
kept for this, and drafted into no other service. Many ob- 
ject to using soap in washing milk pans, pails, etc. But we 
have great affection and reverence for soap, and cannot 
imagine that its free use can harm any article employed 
about a dairy. "We always insist that the pails, pans, skim- 
mers, butter-prints, and churn be washed in very hot suds ; 
if a servant fears to risk her hands, we use our own. A 
small, pointed scrub-brush must be used to scoiu' the seams, 
corners, handles, etc., of all the utensils, and particularly the 
strainers in the pads. After this scrubbing is well done, 
rinse in an abundance of hot water, and then pour over all 
a large kettle of boiling water. Let the articles stand in this 
a short time, then wipe with clean towels, and turn down on 
a stand or shelf prepared for them outdoors, where the sun 
will sweeten them perfectly. Even in rainy days, better 
leave them out an hour or two that they may have the bene- 
fit of the air at least, if deprived of sun ; then \\dpe them 
dry, and bring into the milk-room before night. 

A small unpainted tub should be kept expressly to wash 
milk-things in. The brush, wash-cloths, and drying towels 
ought all to be marked, and never used for any other purpose. 
See that they are washed, scalded, and hung to dry, outdoors 
if possible, every time they are used. 

If the milk-room or cellar is small and not ventilated, it 
is very difiicidt in July and August to keep milk sweet long 
enough for all the cream to rise. While the weather is very 
hot, unless one has a deep, cold cellar, or a spring of water 
running through it, it is well to scald the milk when first 



52 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

brought in. Have a kettle half full of hoiling water over the 
fire ; strain the milk into a clean pail, and set it into the boil- 
ing water until it gets scalding hot, but not boiling. Be 
sure and remove it before it rises in wrinkles on top. If too 
hot, the butter will have a disagreeable taste. The butter is 
never quite as good, but the cream rises more rapidly, before 
the milk has time to change, — a very important gain, and 
one to be considered in case of a small cellar. 

In very warm weather, with no more protection than is 
generally found in small dairies, it is not often possible to keep 
milk over twenty-four hours before skimming. Every min- 
ute the cream remains on the milk, after it changes, is an 
injury to the butter. Thirty-six hours is the proper time for 
milk to stand, when the weather is cool enough to keep it 
sweet. Some keep it forty-eight hours, on the plea that 
more butter is secured. We doubt if it is so ; but whatever 
is gamed in quantity, by keeping milk so long unskimmed, 
is certainly lost in quality. Many think it important to 
keep the cream till rii^e, or sour, before churning. We 
think it a mistake, if good, sweet butter is the thing 
sought. In cool weather we churn when the cream is as 
sweet as that wliich is used for coffee. In July and August 
the cream will sour, and the flavor of the butter shows the 
difference. As soon as the butter " comes," it must be well 
washed down from tlie sides of the churn, and gathered into 
a mass. If very warm, wash a piece of ice and put it into 
the churn, leaving the butter five or ten minutes to harden 
before putting it into the "butter-bowl," which, with the 
butter-ladle and churn, should have been kept full of cold 
water all night. When the butter is firm enough to work 
over, take it into the bowl and throw in a handful of salt ; 
we fancy it causes the buttermilk to run off more easily ; 
work out all the buttermilk as gently as possible ; too much 
working or rough handling injures the grain of the butter. 



MAKING CHEESE. 63 

This done, pour in ice-water ; wash the butter through that ; 
pour off, and add more, till the water runs clear. Twice 
washing, in a generous quantity, should be sufficient. Then 
taste, and see how much more salt is needed. After the 
washing, press the butter with the ladle tdl no water 
runs ; toss it into a compact roll, cover with a clean linen 
cloth, and put into the ice-chest till next morning, when it 
must be again broken up, worked over, and packed into a 
butter-pail or jar, pounded down compactly, and covered with 
strong brine, in which pulverized saltpetre — a great spoon- 
ful to four quarts of brine — has been dissolved. Cover the 
jar or pail closely, and set in the ice-chest or a cool place. 

This method will insure good butter the year round. It is 
the buttermilk left in most of our market butter that gives 
us so much poor butter. If that remains, no brine or care 
can make it sweet. 

The Blanchard Churn is, we think, one of the safest and 
most convenient, as the washing, salting, and working can be 
almost entirely done in the churn, by turning the wings, or 
dasher, back and forth half-way, — pressing out the butter- 
milk and salting it more evenly and with far less fatigue. 



XV. 

MAKING CHEESE. 

FIRST, a dry, airy, thorouglily ventilated room must be 
provided, of even and moderate temperature. It 
should be used for a cheese-room only, and access denied, if 
possible, to all but the operator. It is useless to attempt the 
work if flies cannot be excluded ; and, when open to all, 
that is impossible. The windows should be kept open in 



54 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

fair weather, Init blinds always closed, to avoid currents 
of air, except to admit what light is needed while the 
work is being done. Frames covered with wire or mosquito 
net can be litted into the windows, and a door of the 
same material hung inside, shutting closely to exclude the 
flies, yet giving admittance to as much air and light as are 
needed. If wind and sun have too free access to a cheese- 
room, the cheese cannot ripen properly. 

Cheese-tubs, cheese-knives (a long wooden knife for 
cutting the curd), cheese-ladder, hoops, cheese-boards, or 
folloivers, cheese-basket, bowl, and cheese-cloths made of 
strong linen, but woven very loosely, and the cheese-press, — 
these are the necessary utensils. 

The months from May to September are good cheese 
months ; some keep up the work through October ; but the 
cheese is more difficult to cure, and will not be as good. 

If night and morning milk is to be used, strain the night's 
milk into pans, and set in a cool place. In the morning 
take off all the cream ; heat the skimmed milk to 95° or 100°, 
pour it into the cheese-tub with the morning's milk, and stir in 
the cream ; add the rennet, and mix all well together with the 
long wooden cheese-knife or a wooden spoon ; cover the tub 
with a close-fitting cover, and spread over that a thick cheese- 
blanket, to keep in the heat while the curd is forming. The 
milk, when drawn from the cows, is from 85° to 90°, and 
until the curd is well set, it should not lose more than from 
five to seven degrees of its natural heat. See that the cows 
are driven to and from their pasture gently ; for, if they "get 
over-heated, the milk will rise above the natural heat, and 
must be cooled off' before the rennet is stirred in ; as, if the 
milk, either from this cause or any other, is over 90° when it 
is set, the cheese will be spongy and of very poor flavor, or 
no flavor at all. If the milk is too cold the curd will be so 
tender it will never become firm, but will bulge out at the 



MAKING CHEESE. 55 

side, and will not keep. Ee sure and ascertain the tempera- 
ture of the milk always, before adding rennet. If the milk 
is too cold, heat some milk and stir in, until the whole rises 
to the proper temperature ; if too warm, wait till it cools 
sufficiently before adding the rennet. The quantity of ren- 
net to be used depends so much on the quality of the article, 
that experience only can teach the exact amount to use. If 
good and strong, two ounces is quite enough for sixty quarts 
of milk. The curd Avill have set firmly in an hour or an 
hour and a half, when it must be cut gently, first round the 
sides of the tub, then across in lines, reaching the long 
wooden cheese-knife to the bottom of the tub, each time 
about an inch from the last ; then cut in the opposite 
direction, forming squares, to give the whey an opportu- 
nity to rise above the curd. Let it settle a few minutes. 
Then throw over the tub a large square cheese-cloth, or 
strainer, and after the curd has settled and the whey risen 
to the top, sink the strainer into it and dip off the whey 
as closely as it can be done. The strainer is then spread 
over a square splint cheese-basket, woven very loose and 
open, and the basket set on the cheese-^acMer, which is laid 
across another tub. The curd must now be cut into small 
pieces gently, and put into the strainer. The corners of the 
cloth are then gathered up and twisted tightly together, and a 
flat, smooth stone, kept for that purpose, of about twelve or fif- 
teen pounds' weight, laid upon it, to press the whey from the 
curd. It should stand an hour ; and, while draining, such 
things as will be no more needed to finish the work for the 
day can be washed, scalded, and set out to dry ; for, of 
course, hot water is always ready. 

The curd when ready is removed to a large wooden cheese- 
bowl, cixt in slices, and a pail of the whey heated to 120° 
or 130° is poured over it. Great judgment and care are 
required here, as, if scalded too much, it makes the cheese 



5G MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

hard ; if not enough, the cheese wi]l spread and crack. The 
hot Avhey should be left on till the curd will " squeak " — 
as the children used to call it — when bitten ; then returned 
again to the strainer and basket, to drain free of the hot 
whey. This done, cut it up again fine ; put in the salt, and 
thoroughly stir it in. The taste is the best criterion to judge 
of the quantity, — about six ounces to every fifteen pounds 
of curd is a fair estimate. A cheese-cloth must now be laid 
over the hoop ; the curd dipped into it, pressed down, but 
heaped up in the centre ; the corners of the cloth folded 
smoothly over, and the first cheese-board, with holes all 
through it, put on ; one a size smaller laid over that ; and 
the cheese thus prepared is ready to be put into the press, 
and subjected to a pressure of from forty to sixty pounds, 
according to the size of the cheese. It should remain in the 
press two or three hours. If the whey, which is now pressed 
out, is of a slightly greenish color, the curd has been prop- 
erly prepared ; but if it is white, like milk, the curd was 
formed imperfectly, and the cheese will not be of the first 
quality. 

When the cheese has remained in the press for about two 
hours, some advise to take it from the hoop and let it stand 
an hour in hot whey, to harden the skin. We do not like 
the idea, and fancy much fine flavor would be lost from the 
cheese. 

We should simply put it into a dry cheese-cloth and re- 
turn it to the press, to remain till next morning. In chan- 
ging the cloth, if any rind presses over the top of the hoop, 
cut it off" smoothly and turn that side of the cheese down. 
Leave it now until the next morning in the same cloth ; 
only it is well to turn it over in the press several times in 
the course of the day. 

When taken from the press the last time, a piece of cheap 
muslin should be soaked in hot butter and fitted over the 



A TROUBLESOME QUESTION. 57 

top and bottom, and a band, also wet in butter, bound tight 
round the cheese and sewed to the edges of the top and bot- 
tom covers. The cheese is then placed on the shelf. It 
will need rubbing with butter every day for some weeks, 
and must be turned over every day for several months, wash- 
ing the shelf clean each time, and changing the place so 
that the shelf may get well dried. 

If the whey is saved, in twenty-four hours a thick creamy 
substance will rise, which, if skimmed off and churned, 
forms butter very quickly, and is excellent to dress the 
cheese with, — a great economy, and better for the cheese 
than table butter. Put some of the butter into a tin dish 
kept for that purpose ; throw in a small red pepper, and put 
it over the fire till boiling hot, then set aside for dressing, 
leaving the pepper in. 

These directions give the general idea of making cheese. 
There are many varieties of cheese, which it would be very 
interesting to notice, pointing out in what the difference 
consists ; but we cannot appropriate more space to this 
matter. 



XVI. 
A TROUBLESOME QUESTION. 

" /^^NE of the most urgent of the unsolved, irrepressible 
V^ questions of the times," says the " Household," a most 
excellent Vermont paper, " relates to the trials which mod- 
ern housewives experience in their efforts to manage their 
households satisfactorily, and still have time for needful rest 
and social culture. As yet the problem remains a puzzle 
alike to the housewife and to the philanthropist. Labor- 
saving machines, which promised so much relief, practically 
3* 



58 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

fail to lighten materially the housekeeper's tasks. ' Biddy ' 
is still the main dependence in the performance of hard work 
in the kitchen ; yet the constant oversight which she usually 
requu-es often renders her services a doubtfid advantage. 

" That the cares of housekeeping increase faster than 
means are found for their disposal seems generally true. 
Whether this is owing to increased luxuriousness in our 
ways of living, or whether the housewives of to-clay lack the 
executive abdity of their grandmothers, remains an open 
question." 

It does not seem to us very difficidt to find the reasons for 
the great increase of our domestic cares ; the puzzle is to 
find the remedy. 

We escape much of the hard work our mothers and grand- 
mothers performed so energetically, and about which house- 
keepers of the present day hear so many disparaging compari- 
sons ; for machinery does better and far more expeditiously 
many things that in olden times coidd only be accomplished 
by hard labor. 

The wool is no longer carded by hand. Our factories have 
banished the spinning-wheel from the good old kitchen fire- 
side ; the little ones nestle no longer by mother's knee, 
watching with never-ceasing wonder and enjoyment the 
" head " of flax disappear from the distaff and become a 
smooth, bright thread, under the skillful hand and foot that 
keep tjie pretty wheel so active. The cool breeze, laden 
with the perfume of cinnamon-roses and lilacs, while it 
sweeps through the open window of the old attic, no longer 
sports with golden curls, as the children run merry races in 
their efforts to " keep step " when the long white rolls of 
wool in the hand of the mother are transformed by the rapid 
revolutions of the big wheel into yarn for knitting. Little 
hands no longer wind it, from the spindle on the swifts, 
into skeins, or fill the bobbins for the weaver's shuttle, and 
no bright eyes watch it as it flies through the warp. 



A TROUBLESOME QUESTION. 59 

The mothers escape the labor of the loom, while the little 
folks lose all this, or the still greater sport of meddling with 
the web, in their vain efforts to throw the shuttle through, 
or to hang up if they succeed, — the froHc often cut short 
by hanging their fingers, instead of the woof, with the heavy 
beam. Machinery relieves us from all such labor, and de- 
prives our children of much real fun, for which there is no 
compensation. 

We almost regret those old-fashioned times, and often 
wonder if the elegancies and (supposed) increased comforts 
of our modern dwellings are a sufficient compensation for 
tlie multiplied labor and the necessity for so much more 
help which we are forced to employ. For though our moth- 
ers and grandmothers did more rough, homely work, we do 
not believe that they had half so hard a time in doing it 
as their daughters have in their efforts to teach modern 
servants how to perform the necessary labor of our present 
style of housekeeping. To weave a web of cloth is but 
child's play, compared to the worry and disappointment and 
mortification that cause our modern housekeepers to " die 
deaths daily," through the utter incompetency of those they 
are compelled to have about them. The tyranny of our 
modern style of living increases the proper amount of work 
to be done far beyond what one pair of hands can perform. 

We think the deterioration is in the servants, and not in 
the mistresses. With all loving respect for our mothers and 
grandmothers, we feel confident that their daughters' execu- 
tive ability is equal to their own. 

To be sure, husbands will tell of their mothers' ginger- 
bread, pies, and doughnuts, and, with an air of hopeless long- 
ing or patient endurance, wonder why nobody " nowadays " 
can ever cook as tlieir mothers did ! 

To be sure ! Why can't they % For the very reason that 
our husbands cannot eat " ever so many " pickles, pies, 



60 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

gingerbread, and big bowls of bread and milk, as they used 
to do on returning from school ; finish off with a pocketful 
of apples, and then be half ready to cry that their contain- 
ing powers are not equal to their appetites.. A good game 
of " tag," however, up the front stars, down the back, through 
the long hall once or twice, soon remedied that difficulty in 
boyhood. If husbands will only let their brains run wild 
for a short time, quit study, forget business, gold markets, 
and all such corroding cares, and be wild, harum-scarum 
boys once more, their wives' gingerbread will taste just as 
good as their mothers' and grandmothers' did. That is the 
trouble with the husbands' appetites. But the house-keep- 
ers' troubles lie deeper than this. 

The whole routine of modern housekeeping is much more 
complex than in our parents' time. To be sure, they rose 
early ; parents and children then knew what " sunrise " 
meant, for they were dressed and at work before the sun's 
red wheel began to rise over the eastern border. The 
cows were milked, the milk put in the cool milk-cellar, the 
butter made, the breakfast ready — a good substantial, 
healthy breakfast — long before the time when our house- 
keepers of to-day are out of their beds, ''Early to bed, 
early to rise," simple, nourishing meals, quiet home pleas- 
ures, — not many hours spent in senseless calls, but an oc- 
casional good old-fashioned visit to keep the heart fresh and. 
living, — these insured health and strength, good digestion, 
tranquil sleep, and cheerful homes. 

Early rising facilitates the action of the domestic machin- 
ery in a wonderful manner. One hour lost or wasted in the 
morning clogs the wheels, and the work drags heavily all 
day. One hour gained is the best lubricator in the world. 
Everything glides along smoothly, — head, heart, and hands 
work in harmony. 

Once, when a little girl, we were in despair because our 



A TROUBLESOME QUESTION. 61 

" stent " was not finished in season for us to go a berry- 
ing with the brothers and sisters. Taking her kerchief 
from the black satin reticule that always hung on her 
arm when knitting, the dear old grandmother gently wiped 
the fast-falhng tears, saying, " Ah, little one ! you did n't 
want to get up this morning when the others did. Remem- 
ber that if you lose an hour in the morning you will waste 
half a dozen hunting it all day long, and deprive yourself of 
much pleasure. I 'd try and remember, if I were you, never 
to lose another." 

We regret, for their own comfort, that our present house- 
keepers do not retain their parents' habits of early rising. 
But contrast the life of our parents with the modern life of 
their descendants. The demands of society, late hours, too 
much visiting and company, make laggards in the morning ; 
and the appetite, injured by untimely eating at these late 
hours, is supposed to need coaxing with dainties at breakfast. 
The elaborate breakfast requires as much time and labor as 
belongs to a dinner ; and the dinner, with all the variety 
that etiquette claims, — several courses, and a multitude of 
dishes consequent upon these courses, — increases the labor 
immensely ; and, unless blessed with a good corps of servants, 
requiring little oversight, we can secure little time for rest, 
reading, or sewing. 8uch servants are seldom granted to 
mortals in our times. Twenty years ago, one girl, without 
any of the modern improvements, — - water to be brought 
from the street pumps, suds to be taken up and emptied in 
tlie gutter, — accomplished more work, and made the family 
more comfortable, than three or four will do now. 

We are inclined to believe that the heaviest trials of 
housekeeping may be traced, not to the degeneracy of our 
mothers' daughters, but to a marked and most unfortunate 
change in the character and capacity of our " help." (1) This 
is no freak of the imagination. Some few families still re- 



G2 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

tain servants that have been with tliem for years, and such 
housekeepers have no sympathy with their less favored sis- 
ters ; but let death or marriage remove these comforts, and 
compel them to seek others to replace the old and well-tried 
ones, and they will learn that this complaint has very sub- 
stantial foundations. 

What remedy may be found it is impossible to say. In 
part our housekeepers are to blame. They have such horror 
of being left without help, such dread of constant changes, 
that they live as slaves to the whims and caprices of an 
ignorant class of persons, who soon recognize their fears 
and dependence, and use this knowledge to extort high 
wages for very little service, — compelling theix mistresses to 
pass over their impudence and arrogance by bold threats of 
leaving. 

This lack of independence, this fear to assert their own 
authority and rights, is, we apprehend, in a great measure 
the cause of the insubordination and uselessness of the girls 
of the present time. When they learn that their services 
will not be accepted unless faithfidly rendered, we may look 
for easier and happier times. But how is this to be accom- 
pHshed 1 A few cannot remedy the evil. It can only be 
effected by general co-operation. We are not willing to ac- 
knowledge that the housekeepers of the past were any more 
capable than those of our time ; but we do think that our 
position, owing to the great annoyance we are subjected to 
from the kitchen cabinet, is far more trying than our moth- 
ers' could have been. 

What sort of housekeepers our daughters will become, 
enervated by late hours and all the gay and strange excite- 
ment of modern life, and crippled by the hideous freaks of 
fashion, it is painful to imagine and impossible to fortell. 



WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 63 

XVII. 
WOMAN'S KINGDOM. 

" T SEE unrest, discontent, strife, and sin : I see girls — 
I children in years — from whose cheek the first blush 
of innocence, from whose soul the last vestige of youth, have 
vanished ; women sold to frivolity ; women wasting most 
precious gifts ; women whose ambition has no higher object 
than to mislead and triumph over men ; men growing hard, 
selfish, and wicked, the slaves of their passions, going 
down to death, with no hand to save, — all for the lack of a 
true home. Then I remember that the home is the true king- 
dom of woman, where her rights can never be dethroned ; 
that all pure love, all right thoughts, all religion, all govern- 
ments, if you would have them live, must have their roots 
beneath its altar. This conviction impels me to say to every 
woman who has a home. Let home stand first, before all other 
things ! 1^0 matter how high your ambition may transcend 
its duties, no matter how far your talents or your influence 
may reach beyond its doors, before everything else build 
up a true home ! Be not its slave ! Be its minister ! Let 
it not be enough that it is swept and garnished, that its sil- 
ver glistens, that its food is delicious. Feed the love in it. 
Feed the truth in it. Feed thought and aspiration, feed 
all charity and gentleness in it. Then from its walls shall 
come forth the true woman and the true man, who, together, 
shall rule and bless the land." 

Is this an overwrought picture 1 "We think not. What 
honor can be greater than to found such a home ? What 
dignity higher than to reign its undisputed, honored mis- 
tress % What is the ability to speak on a public platform to 



64 MOTHEELY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

large, intelligent audiences, or the wisdom that may command 
a seat on a judge's bench, compared to that which can insure 
and preside over a true home, with such skill that husband 
and children " rise up and call her blessed " 1 To be the 
guidiiig star, the ruhng spirit, in such a position is higher 
honor than to rule an empire. Woman's rights ! Has man 
any higher rights than these % 

To be sure man often abuses liis power, and brings sor- 
row and woe upon her who, trusting and loving him, should 
always be the mistress of his heart, an equal partner in all 
his possessions, his joys, and his sorrows. But are there no 
cases on record where " the woman Thou gavest me " has 
abused the power with which the marriage vow endowed 
her ; destroying the peace, and making shipwreck of all that 
her husband holds most precious % 

The law does not as yet secure to a wife such independence 
as will guard her against injustice and meanness from the 
hands of her husband; but what defence have they pro- 
vided against the bitter sorrows that bad wives can bring 
down upon their husbands % Has any one ever ascertained 
the full statistics, or clearly estimated the average? It is 
weU, no doubt, that this matter has been so widely agitated, 
as it all tends, we hope, to establish the rights of both 
man and woman on a firm foundation ; but if, before this 
*' revolution " is settled, man should make a full statement 
of his wrongs, there are those who could bring forward just 
cause of complaint in large measure. Ah ! if husbands and 
wives would always remember that, with them, as in other 
associations, " union is strength " ; that " united they stand, 
divided they fall " ; that together they should walk tlirough 
life, together share the joys, together bear the burdens and 
the crosses, — what a happy world this would be ! If it is a 
united kingdom, the wife accepts the rough as well as the 
smooth of household rule, as her part of the administration. 



WOMAN'S KINGDOM. G5 

If able to govern without a " kitchen -cabinet," a happy- 
woman is she ! But if not, she also takes the trials of the 
kitchen, the disagreeable details which must form a part 
of her home life, the vexation of spirit caused by the in- 
efficiency of the servants of the present time, and this is the 
dreariest part, — all great and increasing hindrances to the 
perfection at which she should aim. But a good wife will 
endure these infelicities till a remedy is found, remembering 
that they are but a small part of home. The purest, sweetest, 
holiest elements that constitute a home, if recognized and 
administered in the right spirit, will enable her to forget these 
trials in the joy and peace that is set before her, and to which 
all may surely attain, if woman forgets not her high calling 
in a poor ambition. 

MeanAvhile the husband — the household king — accepts 
his part in the rule of this united kingdom. Are his cares 
any lighter than his wife's 1 Look at them. The dust and 
toil and strife, the battling with the great world outside, in 
whatever sphere his talents and duties call him, to provide 
necessities, luxuries, or honors, accordingly as he is prospered, 
for the family who are sheltered in his home. 

We think the joys and the sorrows, the crosses and the 
crowns, in married life are about evenly balanced, and nothing 
will right all the wrongs, and bring order out of the con- 
fusion of these vexed questions, so surely as the shelter of a 
true home, ruled hy the true wife and mother. 



GG MOTHEKLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XVIII. 

THE KITCHEN. 

UNFOETUI^ATELY, many ladies have not health or 
strength sufficient to take such supervision as will se- 
cure a neat and well-arranged kitchen ; and, still more unfor- 
tunately, there are many, and we fear the number is increas- 
ing, who have such repugnance to any care save the genteel 
arrangement of their parlors, or the fashionable adornment of 
their persons, that they shun their kitchens as they would 
the plague. They will give occasional directions for some 
fancy dish, or the more elaborate details, if preparing for 
company ; and then, if their husbands attend to the mar- 
keting, reheving them from all care, and the cook and waiter 
have breakfast, dinner, and tea at the desired time and 
in proper shape, they are content. If their parlors and 
chambers appear neat and inviting, they ask no questions as 
to the condition of their kitchens, and never inquire if the 
supply of utensils is adequate to the amount and quality of 
the labor the cook is expected to perform, or if they are of 
a kind to expedite or simplify her work. Indeed, one would 
suppose that the kitchen was entirely out of the mistress's 
domains, — a region for which the cook only was responsible. 
If any are content to eat what is set before them, " asking no 
questions," — not "for conscience' sake," but for the sake of 
their own indolent self-indulgence, — that is their right, and 
we would in no wise interfere with the full enjoyment of it. 
But we know there are those who find no bliss in such 
ignorance, but prefer to know when and in what their food 
is prepared, and willingly accej^t the care and, it may be, 
the annoyance which the knowledge will bring. In many 



THE KITCHEN. 67 

of the most palatial abodes, where comforts ami luxuries of 
every character abound, little attention is paid to any com- 
fort or convenience connected with the kitchen. Refusing 
to provide straw, Pharaoh exacted the full tale of brick 
from the Israelites of old ; and so some housekeepers exact 
the most elaborate meals, without any thought of providing 
the conveniences which will best enable the cook to gratify 
tlieir wishes. 

We once watched with a sick child belonging to the rich 
family of the town. The furniture, the silver and glass, 
were of the best. It was necessary to prepare ivine ivhey for 
the little sufferer during the night. The mother, exhausted 
with much watching and anxiety for the child, was sleeping, 
and, unwilling to wake her, we left a fellow- watcher in 
charge while we found our way to the kitchen, — if the mis- 
erable room could be called by that name. The floor was made 
of loose, rough boards, that sprang up with every step ; an old, 
dilapidated table, minus one leg, was propped up on the back 
of a chair ; broken dishes, worn-out saucepans, — in truth, we 
Avere at our wits' ends to make even the simple wine whey in 
such utensils as we found in that strange kitchen, and have 
often since marvelled by what skill the excellent dinners and 
suppers we have partaken at that house could ever have been 
manufactured in such a den and with such " conveniencies." 

Whenever it is possible, a large, airy kitchen should be 
provided, with every thmg to expedite and simplify the 
labor, and with every facility for perfect ventilation, — a 
most important point. In the homes of the wealthy there 
is no reason why the kitchen shoidd not be in all respects so 
arranged and furnished that the cook must be inexcusable if 
she does not keep it and its belongings in the most perfect 
order. 

But for those who cannot command the means to build 
and furnish a kitchen of this kind, the necessity for the 



68 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YUUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

greatest neatness and order in that department is still 
stronger. The occupants of second-class houses are often 
those who must themselves do or overlook much of the 
heaviest labor of the family, and therefore have no time to 
spend in the doubtful luxury of " clearing-up days." Such 
days are generally wasted days. Those who find them a 
necessity are mostly a class who, for five days in the week, 
never put anything in its proper place, leaving all in disorder 
till Satiu'day. Then everything is hunted out of its hiding- 
place, washed, scoured, polished, and put where it really 
belongs. The improvement is so striking that one would 
suppose the kitchen would never again be a scene of dis- 
order and confusion ; but probably before Monday's sun has 
set carelessness and misrule will have again regained their 
empire, and taken unto themselves seven spirits worse, if that 
be possible, than the first. And thus Saturday's labor will 
have been given in vain. There is not one servant in a hun- 
dred who does not need the watchful eye of a methodical 
mistress to enforce the necessity of order and neatness in the 
kitchen. If it is made and furnished in the best manner, it 
should certainly be carefully kept ; but if it be small, incon- 
venient, and have a meagre supply of utensils, neatness and 
order become an imperative necessity. 

Jules Gouffe, a famous French cook, says : " The more 
inconvenient a kitchen may be, the more need for cleanli- 
ness, carefulness, and for plentiful and good utensils to sim- 
plify one's work. Cleanliness ! Cleandiness ! — the great 
essential in all cooking operations — should, I maintain, at 
the risk of being thought over-particular, be written in large 
capitals on the door of every kitchen, large or small. A 
kitchen may be small, badly arranged and lighted, but it 
shoiild never, on any plea, be dirty. Failure in cooking is 
often attributable to want of attention to cleanliness. ]*^oth- 
ing more than a dirty saucepan is often sufficient to spoil the 



THE KITCHEN. 69 

effect of a whole dinner. All kitchen utensils should be 
examined daily. Saucepans of all kinds cannot be kept too 
carefully ; they should be washed, scoured with fine sand, 
and wcU rinsed each time they are used. The wasliing of 
many things in the same water should be carefully avoided ; 
the greasiness this engenders adds much to the labor of 
cleaning. The brightness and cleanliness of the outside is 
very commendable ; but the cleanliness of the inside must 
not be sacrificed to that." 

"What would be Jules Gouflfe's sensations could he look 
into many of our kitchens 1 What would our good house- 
keepers themselves say — those of them that are not obliged 
to do the cooking for their families — if we should tell them 
that the pans in which their bread is baked are seldom 
washed out and dried, but are, unless thrown into the closet 
just as the bread was taken from them, wiped with a wet, 
greasy dishcloth, and bread baked in them over and over again, 
day after day, with no other cleansing 1 Said a good lady, 
" What is the reason that the bottom crust of my bread al- 
ways tastes like rancid butter 1 " Examine your bread-pans, 
and you will no doubt find the reason, to your great surprise 
and vexation. How often, think you, is your molding-board 
set away without being washed after molding bread or roll- 
ing pastry, and the dough left to dry and sour on it, 
and the next . batch molded on the same unwashed board ] 
" That can't be possible. I saw it hanging up in the store- 
room over the flour-barrel only this morning, and it was 
clean." Turn it over, under- side up, before you speak with 
too much certainty. How about the flour-sieve 1 Is it left 
in the flour-barrel, — thrown in with the sponge, from the 
cook's wet hands, upon it, or a piece of unused pastry put in 
it ] If so, when the barrel of flour is about half used, you will 
find that it has suddenly become sour. 

Is it not well to watch over these things daily 1 



70 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XIX. 

HOW MUCH IS A WIFE WORTH ? 

A FEW weeks since, a party sitting near us in tile cars 
were speaking of a young man, a wealthy farmer, 
Avho had just disturbed his friends by venturing to marry a 
poor girl. We judged by the conversation that he had been 
well educated, and for wealth and intelligence was quite 
looked up to by his townsmen. But he had married for 
love, not money or position, and these friends were liberally 
using friendship's privilege to make rather severe remarks 
about him in his absence. 

First, it was so foolish, after his fine education, instead of 
entering into one of the " professions," to return to the home- 
stead, the quaint old farm-house, and taking the care of his 
aged parents upon himself, settle down to a farmer's life. 
/So foolish / 

But that was a trivial offence compared to taking a poor 
girl for a wife, with nothing but a common, practical educa- 
tion, good health, a loving heart, and willing hands to 
recommend her. With his cultivated and refined tastes, 
what happiness could he hope for in such companionship 1 
But then he would be a farmer, and perhaps she would be 
all that a farmer's wife need be. 

We have often thought of the tone of this conversation. 
For what do men generally marry, and what estimate do 
they put upon their wives 1 How many really good hus- 
bands ever realize how large a share of the prosperity of 
their home, its comforts and success, they owe to their 
■wives. The husband earns the money, it may be, but does 
he ever make an estimate, a fair business estimate of what it 



HOW MUCH IS A WIFE WORTH ] 71 

would cost, in dollars and cents, to bui/ the care and com- 
forts that he receives througli his wife's labors, whatever 
may be their standing in the community 1 Particularly is 
this a 2:)ertinent question in regard to a farmer's wife. 

While this subject and the conversation just alluded to 
were fresh in mind, we chanced to pick up a stray paper 
which spoke quite clearly on some of the points in question. 
We sixbjoin a few sentences. They may not come exactly 
under the head of " talks with young housekeepers," but 
they certainly belong to the " Household." Besides, while 
Ave are on such intimate terms with the wife, common 
courtesy demands that some little attention should be paid 
to the husband. 

" We will for the present leave out of sight all sentiment, 
all reference to the little comforts and felicities that go to 
make up the sum of domestic happiness, and come right to 
the practical question, ' Does a young woman, who comes 
to her husband with little or no dowry, but with willing 
heart and hands and a fair share of intelligence, who takes 
care of him, of his house, and of his family as it increases, 
often without any hired help, really earn anything more 
than her board and clothing 1 ' 

" No man will deny that a good wife is a treasure. Her 
care and labor certainly secure him many comforts ; but how 
much would he consider them worth in dollars and cents 1 
It is a great comfort to a husband to have his three meals a 
day properly cooked and prepared at hours that suit his con- 
venience. He can swallow a dinner in twenty or thirty 
minutes, that it has taken most of the wife's forenoon to 
prepare. He thinks it a good dinner ; but how high an 
estimate think you would he put upon the labor of prepar- 
ing it, if required to state the worth in money 1 

" With what astonishment and disgust would he look 
upon his table if set with dishes that had not been washed 



72 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

since last used ; but how high a money value would he be 
willing to put upon the one unromantic item of washing 
dishes, which, nevertheless, takes so large a share of a woman's 
time? 

" With what satisfaction he puts on the clean, smoothly 
ironed shirt and the nicely darned socks ! They do not 
look much like the ones he pulls off to throw into the 
wash. " 

" Some one had to rub pretty smartly to get the dirt all 
out ; some one strained over the hot flat-irons to make this 
shirt so glossy ; some one spent an hour, perhaps while he 
slept, to darn those unsightly holes in the heels of these 
stockings. And if a farmer, it was his wife most probably 
that did it ali ; and not this one week only, but every week, 
as sure as the week comes round. I^ow, he does appreciate 
cleanliness, notwithstanding his protestations against wash- 
ing-days and house-cleaning ; but is he willing to own that 
it is worth anything in money if done by his wife % 

" Then comes the case of the milk and butter. Every 
day it must be attended to at the proper time, the cream 
churned, the butter made and carefully worked and salted. 
He is proud that his wife makes good butter, and quite 
happy to have customers tell him, ' Your wife makes 
better butter than any one round here.' But then, are not 
the cows his ] Does he not furnish the food 1 does he not 
milk and take care of them 1 Is her part r^lly worth any- 
thing in dollars and cents ? y 

" Then, again, her energies are taxed early and late in the 
care of the children. She is, of course, an interested party 
here ; but then she don't pretend to own but half a share. 
Is it really worth nothing to soothe, amuse, correct, teach, 
and watch over his half of the little folks as well as her 
own 1 This is real brain-work. Where is the man who will 
say that this care for their children does not require aU a 



HOW MUCH IS A WIFE WORTH l 73 

woman's wit and wisdom 1 But if asked to place a pecuiiiitry 
value upon this part of a wife's and mother's care and lab-r, 
to how high a figure, think you, it would mount '? 

" A farmer's wife, who really does her own work, or faith- 
fully oversees its being done, which is by far the most try- 
ing part, has no easy task ; but we would ask for her only 
what is justly her due. If there is any standard by which 
her services can be rightly estimated, we would like to know 
it. We wish to know whether there be any surplus in her 
favor ; whether, when she asks for a few dollars for some 
purpose not strictly necessary (a book, for instance), she 
ought to feel that she is asking for her husband's hard- 
earned means, or whether she has a right to feel that it is 
her due "i How much must a wife credit to her husband's 
generosity ; how much use with a free conscience as her own 
faithfully earned portion of their joint labors 1 " 

Young men will do wisely to give this matter a serious 
thought, lest they make the mistake of taking a wife's labor 
and attentions as a matter of course, as a right, instead of 
feeling that in taking his name, his wife claims, not only an 
equal right to his cares and labors, joys and sorrows, but 
also an equal right to a proper use of the money which she 
has done her part to earn or to save. A Avife, a farmer's 
wife particularly, has too much toil and perpetual watchful- 
ness to make her life desirable, if with it all she is to be con- 
sidered a beggar, a recipient of charity, instead of a joint 
partner with her husband in all that he has. 



74 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XX. 

TEACH LITTLE BOYS TO BE USEFUL. 

HOW often, when anything has been said of teaching 
little boys to be useful, have we heard mothers ex- 
claim, " What an idea ! Teach hoys to be useful ! I wish 
you would tell me how ; for of all the restless, awkward, mis- 
chievous, troublesome comforts on the face of the earth, I do 
think boys are the most trying. I am sure I love my boys 
just as much as I do my girls ; but it is so much harder to 
manage them, to keep them out of mischief, to know what to 
do "with them. They were vexatious enough when we were 
boarding ; but now, when, with four children on my hands, 
I am but just entering upon my novitiate as a housekeeper, 
feeling my way step by step, they fret me wofully. They 
are under my feet all the time. Too young to be sent to 
school more than a few hours a day, or to be turned out un- 
attended, to play with chance companions, they hang about 
me, uneasy, restless, fractious, teasing for something con- 
tinually. I often think it would be a comfort could we put 
them on a shelf to sleep through the unquiet, turbulent 
period of childhood, to wake up full-grown men. My httle 
girls can always find something to do, but the boys — make 
hoys tiseful, indeed! It would be a true benefactor who 
could teach mothers how to accomplish such a marvellous 
thing ! " 

Well, I notice that you very wisely and skillfully com- 
bine instruction with amusement in your management of 
your little girls. I watched with much interest how pleas- 
antly you were teaching them to be useful, Avhile they found 
work to be only amusement. " I wonder which of these 



TEACH LITTLE BOYS TO BE USEFUL. 75 

little girls would like to run and bring mamma a few apples " ; 
and away, in great glee, trotted little three-year-old Kitty, 
with, her little basket. 

"Would Mary like to help mamma pare this nice red 
apple ? Which, think you, can make the largest paring with- 
out lireaking 1 " How happy the little lady was to leave her 
play and make the trial ! Why not make the same efibrt to 
amuse and instruct your little boys 1 

" Would you have me teach them to set the table, wash 
dishes, sew, or try to work 1 " 

Do you not believe they can be taught all this as easily 
as girls 1 We hold that, in a large family, each one, boy or 
girl, should be taught to be useful ; to help their mother in- 
doors and out, and, above all, learn to help themselves. This 
they cannot do if allowed to be idle. 

In the city, and in families that depend entirely on hired 
help, it is more difficult to train children to be industri- 
ous and useful. It is not well to let the young, imitative 
little ones be much with servants, certainly not unless the 
mother is there also ; and all instructions of a practical na- 
ture should be given by her, and practised under her eye. 
Wealth is by no means to be despised ; but when it is so 
employed as to remove all labor from us, or to so free us from 
care that we do not teach our children how to make them- 
selves serviceable, it is no blessing, and may become a curse. 
Those who have begun life poor, and worked their way to 
wealth by real hard labor, forget, when their children start 
up around them, how much true, solid pleasure was in their 
struggle for this well-earned prosperity, and as they relax 
their exertions and begin to feel the enervating effects of 
wealth, they remember only the hardship, forgetting the 
pleasure. Because there is now no absolute necessity for it, 
they shrink from permitting their children to follow in their 
early footsteps, and so cheat them out of the strength and 



76 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

independence for which no amount of gold can in any way 
compensate. 

But we are neglecting the boys. "We will give you an 
example which will explain somewhat our idea of making 
children useful, boys and girls alike. 

We remember a large family, in which there were seven 
boys. They were not driven to work, but from their earliest 
childhood were, little by little, trained to understand and 
do all kinds of outdoor work pertaining to a large farm ; but 
it was also understood that they were to lend a helping hand 
indoors whenever the mother or sisters needed them. They 
knew they would only be called in when it was quite neces- 
sary, but very early recognized the importance of knowing 
how to do anything that came before them. If the mother 
or sistera were sick or absent, they could so far fill up the 
gap as to keep things comfortable till health was restored. 
They could dress. the youngest, make a bed, sweep a room, 
make a cup of tea or coffee, broil a steak, or wash the dishes 
in a very satisfactory manner. 

When quite little, not old enough to undertake heavy or 
rough work, they were allowed any amount of play, but it 
was expected that all but the baby must do something use- 
ful, something that was worh, in the course of each day. So, 
little by little, as they trotted about after mother, they gath- 
ered up many things which, in mature life, were of great value. 

The family lived some miles from church, and as it was 
customary to have preaching in both morning and afternoon, 
with Sabbath-school between services, they took a slight 
lunch of crackers or gingerbread, stayed through all, and 
returned in season for a late dinner and tea united. IS'ow it 
was a settled rule that the parents and part of the children 
should go to church every Sunday, rain or shine ; and the 
oldest children, boys and girls, took turns in staying at home 
to get dinner and take care of the baby. 



TEACH LITTLE BOYS TO BE USEFUL. 77 

They all took great pride in having everything in order, 
and a good dinner all ready, when the church-goers returned ; 
and the boys' housekeeping was as creditable as the girls'. 
None felt it to be a hardship ; on the contrary, those who 
were too young to be left in charge looked forward with 
great anxiety to the time when they should be allowed to 
"take their turn" with the older and more favored ones. 

When these boys left home for school or college, a box, 
with scissors, needles, thread, and buttons, was always placed 
in each trunk ; and the lost buttons were replaced and the 
ever-recurring rents repaired by their own hands ; and with 
the stitches went many thanks daily to the wise mother 
who had taught them to take care of themselves, as Avell as 
be helpful to others. 

Now, my dear young housekeeper and anxious mother, 
do you not think your little sons would be less restless and 
fretful, and far more happy, if you allowed them to " make 
b'lieve " that they were a most important help to you, un- 
til, by a little patience and indidgence, you succeeded in 
making the imaginary help a reality, which would repay you 
in later years /or all the slight inconvenience and annoyance 
you experienced in teaching them, and insure comfort and in- 
dependence to your sons, under whatever circumstances they 
might be placed. 



78 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XXI. 

BLEACHING, STARCHING, AND REMOVING STAINS. 

A YOUNG housekeeper writes us : " Without the least 
knowledge of domestic concerns, I passed from the 
school-room into the position of a farmer's wife. Together 
with other things of which I am ignorant, I need some minute 
directions for starching, ironing, removing stains, etc. Any 
hints on these points would he very acceptable to me, and I 
douht not to many others. I can now succeed very weU in 
managing the cooking and butter-making, but am sorely tried 
about my washing and ironing sometimes. With cooking 
and butter-making, my sewing and babies, I have enough to 
do, and feel like evading the care or oversight of the wash- 
ing and ironing, but cannot. There are so many kinds of 
stains, — fruit, tea, and grass stains. Then if the girl suc- 
ceeds in doing the washing pretty well, she makes such 
work with the starching, and smuts the clothes so badly in 
ironing, that I am much troubled. Whether not particular 
enough in cooking or straining the starch, I don't know." 

We judge from this letter that our friend is obliged to 
depend on " hired help " for her washing and ironing. We 
think we can show her how to succeed as weU in this de- 
partment as she seems to have done in cooking and butter- 
making ; but whether she can manage to secure the observance 
of our directions by the girl in the laundry, is another and 
very doubtful question. One of the hardest of the house- 
keeper's trials with the servants of the present day is their 
unwillingness to receive any directions or counsels about the 
mode of doing their work ; yet they seem utterly without 
any capacity to plan or arrange their labor for themselves, so 



BLEACHING, STARCHING, AND REMOVING STAINS. 79 

that it may l^e performed in the best and easiest manner. 
They will be an hour in doing that which with a little 
forethought or method could have been done in one third 
of the time, and in no one item of household labor do 
they manifest their total want of system so strikingly as 
in the laundry ; yet they will not be taught a more excel- 
lent way. 

With regard to stains, which are a grief of heart to all 
good housekeepers, it is much surer and less troublesome to 
remove them when fresh ; and the eye of the mistress must 
watch over tliis, or they will be left to dry, and most likely 
be overlooked when the washing is done. 

Most, if not all, fruit stains can be taken out if stretched 
over a dish or pail, and hoiling water slowly poured over 
them. If the stains have not been allowed to dry long, this 
will speedily remove them. But if they have, unfortunately, 
been put into the wash, the soapsuds will '' set " the stains, 
and then, when discovered, they should be dipped in " Ja- 
velle water " or " bleaching fluid." They should remain in 
this but a few moments, then be well rubbed and put at 
once into the boiler, and, as a general thing, when the article 
is taken from the boiler to rinse, the stain will have disap- 
peared. If the stains from tea or grass are fresh, " Javelle 
water," or a little ammonia, will easily remove them ; but 
in either case, if done before the regular washing, the article 
should be well washed and spread on the grass to bleach 
and dry. Stains that have been long dried, or washed 
and boiled in before they were noticed, are much more 
difficult to remove. Ink stains can be taken out of linen 
as follows : — 

Wash the spot in salt and water as soon after the ink is 
on as you can, taking care that it is not put into suds before 
it has been well washed in the salt and water, and then 
sponged with lemon juice, else the soap will instantly " set " 



80 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

the color, making it almost impossible ever to remoye the 
ink. 

When ink is spilled on the carpet or on woolen goods, if 
attended to instantly after the accident, it can be taken out 
entirely by sweet millc. First, wipe off carefully all that 
can be soaked up by a handful of cotton batting. Then 
have a dish of sweet milk ready, and dipping the clean cot- 
ton batting in it, wash the spot, changing the batting for a 
clean piece as soon as it gets black with the ink ; and also get 
clean milk, when the first becomes discolored. Continue 
this till the ink no longer shows ; then take a pail of hot 
suds and a clean cloth, and wash as far as the milk has Avet ; 
rinse with clean warm water, and rub dry with a clean cloth. 
"We have never known this to fail. 

Ink spots, paint, or grease can be removed from clothing 
by mixing four tablespoonfuls of spirits of hartshorn, the 
same quantity of alcohol, and one tablespoonful of table 
salt. Mix it well and apply with a sponge or brush. Wash 
off with clear alcohol. 

To remove ink stains from colored articles, drop hot tallow 
on the spot ; then soak and rub it with boiling milk. This 
will be found effectual. Of course, the tallow and milk 
must be afterward washed off, either with soapsuds or alco- 
hol, else a grease spot will be left. 

Your oil-cloth should never be scrubbed with a brush, and 
on no account nse soapsuds or hot water. It has a bad 
effect on the paint, and the cloth will not last as long. 
After sweeping, wash with soft flannel and lukewarm or 
cold water. Let the oil-cloth get thoroughly dry ; then pre- 
pare a small bit of bees-wax, softened with a little turpen- 
tine, and rub the cloth well with this preparation, using for 
that purpose a soft furniture polishing-brush. This need 
not be done every week, but whenever the oil-cloth grows 
dingy. Cared for in this way, it will last twice as long as 



BLEACHING, STARCHING, AND REMOVING STAINS. 81 

with the ordinary scrubbing, and always look fresh and 
new. 

A less troublesome way, but not quite so effective, is to 
wash the oil-cloth, after sweeping and washing with flannel 
and warm water, with sweet skim-milk, and then rub very 
dry with a clean dry cloth. Wipe straight one way of the 
cloth, not round and round, as that will give a cloudy, un- 
pleasant look to the cloth. 

When clothes have become yellow or of a bad color from 
poor washing or from lying unused some time, it is well to 
take them, after boiling, from the first suds and spread on 
the grass to bleach, Avhile another boilerful is being washed. 
When the second is put on to boil, take up those that have 
been bleaching on the grass and rinse faithfully through two 
generous rinsing waters ; the last water to be blued. Then 
pass through the wringer, starching such as need it in hot 
starch, unless you prefer to wait till ycu fold them, and 
hang up to dry. Then take the second lot from the boiler, 
and leave on the grass to bleach, while you get the coarser 
articles washed and on to boil. This done, take up the sec- 
ond, rinse and hang out, and so on till all the white clothes 
are on the line. 

Most servants object to the bleaching, and they wash all 
the white clothes and leave them wrung out in piles in the 
baskets till all are washed, before they hang up anything. 
This is poor work. The clothes become yellow and streaked 
by lying in coils as they come from the wringer, and under 
such management it is impossible to make them look clear 
and white. The sooner they are on the line after passing 
through the last rinsing, the clearer the clothes will be, and 
if well snapped as they are hung up, and pulled straight and 
evenly on the line, .one finds compensation for the little extra 
trouble — and it is very little — in the greater ease with 
which they can be folded and ironed. 



82 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

It is "well to bloach clothes while washing, all through the 
pleasant weeks of spring, sumnicr, and fall, as it can be so 
much better done than in winter. One hour on the clean 
grass before rinsing is long enough. It is not well to leave 
clothes out overnight when it can be helped, as they are 
liable to be trampled over by cats and dogs during the niglit, 
or be spotted by the drip of the dew or fogs from the trees 
or vines. 

For blueing there is nothing better than the " [N^uremberg 
Ultramarine Blue," which comes in pretty little balls about 
the size of a small cherry, at from fifty to seventy-five cents 
a box. One box with care, in a medium-sized family, will 
last several months. The balls must be tied into a blueing- 
bag, and used like common blueing. 

A large fire-proof earthen saucepan or one of the yeUow- 
ware pipkins is better than tin or iron to make starch in ; 
but if these are not to be found, a tin kettle will do very 
well, if kept bright and clean, and never used for any other 
purpose. "Wlien cooking it should be carefully attended to, 
and then there is no danger of its scorching. 

Two even teaspoonfuls of starch for each shirt, a saltspoon- 
fid of salt, a piece of sperm or wliite Avax as large as a pea, 
or, if these are not to be had, that much lard or butter, is 
a good rule. Use enough cold water to wet the starch, so 
that it can be stirred free from lumps and beaten perfectly 
smooth, then pour on boiling water. It is not easy to give 
the quantity of water to this amount of starch, as the tastes 
vary in regard to the stiffness of collars and bosoms. The 
starch must be stirred often, and boil slowly from fifteen to 
twenty minutes. Skim and strain while hot into a large 
wooden boAvl or earthen dish ; keep a bag for straining starch, 
which should never be used for anything else ; but it is safe 
to keep close watch, or towels, napkins, etc., will be used for 
this purpose instead of the bag. It is not long since we found 



BLEACHING, STARCHING, AND REMOVING STAINS. 83 

one recommended as a splendid laundress straining starch 
through a shirt-sleeve, wliich was tied about tlio wrist with a 
fine handkerchief. A good starch-bag was hanging not six 
feet off. " JS^ever mind, my hidy, I '11 wash it all out." 

If you prefer to starch after the clothes are dried, wet the 
bosoms, collars, and wristbands in hot water, wring very dry, 
and starch wliile the cloth is yet warm. Eub the starch in 
faithfully, Avring in a dry towel to remove all starch that may 
adliere to the outside, spread the garments out evenly, rub 
with a dry cloth, roll up tightly, and let them remain two or 
three hours before ironing. 

In cold weather it is safe to dampen and fold clothes at 
night, and then it is desirable to have the starched clothes 
ironed first. In warm weather starched clothes should never 
be dampened or folded till morning, as there is danger of the 
starch becoming sour and mildewing ; and unless there is a 
cool, airy room to leave them in, it is not safe to sprinkle and 
fold anything, for they may mildew in a warm room in a 
night. 

If any article needs mending, it is well to do it before iron- 
ing. "When ironed, fold and press each article neatly, and 
hang evenly on the clothes-bars, leaving them there till jDer- 
fectly dry. Fold shirts so that the bosoms will not be bent 
in the drawer. Collars should be kejjt in round boxes. La- 
dies' undergarments should be folded so as to bring the sleeves 
and necks outside. It is no more trouble, and it certainly is 
pleasant to have a drawer look neat and attractive when one 
opens it. It is what a good old grandmother used to call 
sort o' restful to look at. Skirts should be made not much 
stilfer than new cotton. The noise of a very stiff skirt when 
one is walking is not the pleasantest music. They should be 
either hung up in a deep wardrobe or folded together lightly 
and laid on a broad shelf. • 



84 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 



XXII. 

TO IRON SHIRTS, VESTS, AND EMBROIDERIES. 

SHIETS cannot be ironed with ease and ironed -well 
without a bosom-board. It should be made of pine, 
well seasoned and entirely free from gum ; one and a half 
inches thick, one foot nine inches long, and eighteen inches 
wide ; very smooth and straight ; rounded on one end, and 
rubbed with sand-paper to remove all roughness. The square 
end must also be smooth, and with a hole in the middle near 
the edge, to hang it up by. Take two or tliree thicknesses 
of an old woolen blanket and cover one side. Stretch it 
very smooth and tight, and fasten to the board with tacks. 
Use the galvanized tacks, so that the clothes will not be 
iron-rusted by coming in contact with them. When tacking 
on the last side, be sure and draw both thicknesses of 
blanket very tight, so that there may be no wrinkles. Over 
the blanket tack two thicknesses of Canton flannel, the 
fleecy side up. Bring the edges of both blanket and cotton 
over the sides, so that when nailed you can cut them even 
with the other side of the board. Then turn it over and 
cover the other side with thick flour paste, and stretch over 
it a piece of Canton flannel ; when this is quite dry, paste 
on another, and so on, as each becomes perfectly dry, till 
you have four thicknesses of Canton flannel pasted together 
on the board ; the last one being trimmed so as to lap over 
and be tacked on to the side of the board, thus making a 
neat finish and covering up aU rough edges. The soft side is 
to iron embroidery, Marseilles vests, and other figured arti- 
cles on ; the hard side to be used in giving a polish to shirt- 
bosoms, collars, etc. 



TO IRON SHIRTS, VESTS, AND EMBROIDERIES. 85 

The bosom-board being thus prepared, make cotton covers 
to slip over all, fitting as tightly to the board as they can 
and yet allow of its being readily removed without tearing. 
Be careful to have these covers changed after each week's 
use. 

A skirt-board should also be kept in every house to iron 
skirts and dresses. This must be six feet long, eighteen 
inches wide at the bottom, one third narrower at the top, 
and one and a half inches thick. The top should be 
rounded. Cover one side with two or three thicknesses 
of an old blanket, as directed for the soft side of the bosom- 
board ; tack on smoothly ; cover the other side with coarse 
cotton, and nail over on to the edge of the board, so as to 
cover the raw edges of the blanket. Have cotton cases also 
made for the skirt-boards, to be changed and washed with 
each week's use. 

Covers for the holders will also pay for the trouble of 
making them, as they insure, as far as possible, against 
smut on the clothes when ironing. But to make this 
pay, the housekeeper must be put to the slight inconven- 
ience of seeing herself that these covers are changed, and 
folloAv up this care by promptly demanding them, when each 
fresh washing comes up, to be put away with the other clean 
things. 

The ironing-table should be covered Avith a thick blanket, 
doubled, and that with a cotton sheet. A coarse, thick, gray 
or white blanket, like an " army blanket," may be bought 
quite cheap ; they come on purpose for " ironing-blankets," 
and answer just as well as a better quality. 

Flat-irons should be carefully kept from dampness, which 
soon rusts them. Leave them standing on the end ; they 
soon spoil if set on the face. If they become rusty, scour 
with emery till quite smooth, or, if past your skill, send to 
an emery factory and have them ground smooth. Keep a 



86 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS, 

piece of yellow bees-wax, wrapped in a cloth in the drawer 
of your ironing-table, to rub the irons on in case they get 
coated with starch. Have a clean cloth at hand to wipe 
them on before using, each time you take a fresh one from 
the stove. 

Having our ironing-table, bosom-board, and other imple- 
ments now all ready, we will attend to the ironing. 

A perfectly clean sheet must be spread over the other 
ironing-sheet before commencing to iron the starched clothes. 
In ironing a shirt, begin with the binding at the neck ; then 
fold the back in the middle and iron ; then iron the sleeves, 
and wristbands, if there are wristbands on the shirt ; fold 
the sleeve in neat plaits and press them hard after ironing ; 
then iron the plain part of the shirt and the collar, if on 
the shirt, ironing the bosom last. Iron the bosom and coUar 
on the bosom-board; rub the bosom over lightly with a 
damp cloth, and iron hard and quickly with a polishing-iron. 
If you have none, you should get one if possible. They 
are found at all hardware stores. They are rounded instead 
of being fiat, hke other irons, without an edge, and very 
smooth, so that no mark of the iron is left on the article 
ironed. This iron is very convenient to use for caps, vests, 
and many small things. 

In ironing a shirt-collar, pass the iron rapidly over the 
wrong side, then iron the band, lastly the right side of the 
collar, which should be well polished, and ironed till perfectly, 
dry. 

Gentlemen's linen or duck pants should be ironed on a 
pants-board, prepared like the soft side of a bosom-board, and 
as nearly the full length as possible. The pockets must be 
turned outside before ironing, that they may leave no crease 
on the pants. Hang pants to air by the straps or the waist- 
bands. 

In ironing a skirt, slip the skirt-board through by the 



TO IRON SHIRTS, VESTS, AND EMBROIDERIES. 87 

round end. Have a clothes-basket or clean sheet on the 
floor under the skirt-board, so that the skirt may fall on it 
as you iron. 

Have a large piece of mosquito net over the clothes-bars 
to protect the articles already ironed from flies, dust, etc. 

Cake-napkins, doilies, or towels that are fringed, must be 
well snapped while damp, to leave the fringe smooth and 
untangled. Some use a fringe-comb. This is very well 
occasionally, but we think, if often used, it tears the fringe, 
and soon gives a thin, worn-out, ragged look to the article. 

Muslin dresses need to be about as stiff as new muslin, 
the starch being strained into the last rinsing water. "White 
gum-arabic added to the starch is very nice for muslin 
dresses ; they iron easier, and look newer. Dark muslins 
must be starched in rice-water or gum-arabic, as common 
starch leaves white patches over the dark color after ironing. 
Iron, as far as possible, on the wrong side. 

To make good rice-starch, boil a pound of rice in four or 
five quarts of water ; let it boil untd. perfectly soft, adding 
boiling water as fast as it boils out, so as to keep up the 
same quantity of water all the time ; stir frequently and 
break it up as much as possible whde boiling. When the 
rice is as soft as it will boil, pour the whole into a gallon of 
water and strain through a thick cloth. It is said that eighty 
drops of elixir of vitriol put into three gallons of clear spring 
water and one of rice-water, thus prepared, is excellent to set 
the color. We have never tried it. Ox gall we knoiv is good 
to fix the color in calico or muslin, as well as to cleanse 
grease and dirt from woolens. There is nothing better to 
clean broadcloths, coats, vests, and pants. Get the butcher 
to fill a bottle with the gall, and put four or five spoonfuls 
into about three quarts of hot soapsuds, and sponge the 
garments with it, carefully rubbing every sjiot. When dirt 
and spots are removed, sponge in clear hot water, and hang 



88 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS, 

the garment up by seams of the arm-holes of coats and vests, 
and waistbands of pants, where they will dry quickly. 
Press on the wrong side when about half dry. Woolen 
dresses may be cleaned in the same manner. 



XXIII. 
A TALK ABOUT BEDS. 

AS we look around silently among the many young 
housekeepers, we think we hear some of them say, 
or, if they don't, they ought to, "I am ashamed to ask any 
one into my chambers, for my beds are a perpetual vexation 
to me. They look as if tossed up by a whirlwind ; the mat- 
tress laid on unevenly, every inequality as visible as if the 
occupants had just risen. The sheets and blankets never find 
their proper place, and the pillows are as hard and knotty as 
if made of cotton batting. I try to teach my girl how to do 
the work properly, but unfortunately am too ignorant myself 
to speak with authority, and I have no doubt she is aware of 
my deficiencies, so my words are idle breath to her." 

If you don't know how to tell a girl, go to the rooms with 
her and show her how you wish the work done. That will 
be the easiest mode for you, and more likely to be remem- 
bered by the pupil. 

*' Alas ! I don't know how to make a bed neatly myself. 
I never attempted it in my life, until I was married. Ah ! 
if I ever have daughters, they shall be taught how to care 
for their own rooms, and make their own beds neatly, how- 
ever rich we may become, or however many servants we may 
employ." 

That is wise and right. Though riches may relieve one 



A TALK ABOUT BEDS. 89 

of much hard labor, they should not enervate, or incapacitate 
for such an amount of exercise as is necessary to secure a 
vigorous muscular development, and also enable one, in an 
emergency, to step in and perform with ease and indepen- 
dence whatever there is to be done. Riches cannot insure 
us against a " hitch " in the domestic machinery now and 
then, and every girl should be so taught that, in her father's 
house or in her own, she can bring " order out of confusion " 
by an independent use of her own hands. 

It is, as I have said in an earlier talk, important that once 
a week, at least, everything should be removed from the bed- 
steads in order that all the dust and lint, which will lodge 
about them, may be removed, and occasionally they need a 
faithful washing, to rid them of the dust and lint which wiU 
settle in the slats, about the joints, springs, and moldings. 

The mattress should be thrown up every morning for a 
good airing, and when this is done turn it over, under side 
wp, and then proceed to make the bed. 

Making beds is a very simple thing. Every housekeeper 
may have some rules differing from her neighbor in this as 
well as in every department of labor ; but there are some 
that are common to all. 

Having placed the mattress evenly on the springs or pal- 
liasse, beat it hard to remove lumpy places, and next spread 
over the under sheet rityhf side tip, with the wide hem at the 
top, and raising up the mattress with the left hand, fold the 
sheet smoothly under at the top and bottom ; then fold under 
at each side, bringing the sheet very tight and smooth across 
the mattress. By having a wide hem at the top and a nar- 
row one at the bottom, there is less danger that by any one's 
carelessness you may some time sleep with that part of the 
sheet to your face which the night before covered your feet. 
Now spread over the upper sheet, right side down ; then as 
you put the finishing touch to the bed, in turning the upper 



90 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

sheet down on the spread at the top, the right side of the 
liem will be outside. In spreading on the upper sheet, bring 
it well uji to the head of the bed, that you may have a hand- 
some, generous width to turn down ; lay it very smooth and 
straight, then put on the blankets, folding both upper sheet 
and blankets nicely under at the foot ; but bring them oidy 
so far up at the head as will cover the shoulders, and not 
turn down doubled across them. 

The bed-spread comes next. It should be put on very 
evenly, the middle fold of the spread coming just in the 
middle of the bed, drawing it up toward the head about as 
high as the upper sheet, a full foot above the blankets. Now 
lift the top of the blankets with one hand and fold the spread 
smoothly under them, on one side of the bed, then pass to 
the other side and proceed in hke manner. By this mode, the 
spread will prevent you from being annoyed with the rough 
blankets, should the sheet get misplaced during the night. 
This done, turn the upper sheet down over all, drawing it as 
smootlily as possible, and tuck all down at the sides, between 
the bedstead and the mattress. "When tucking under the 
last side, draw the spread, blankets, and upper sheet as taut 
and straight as possible, giving the sides of the bed as even 
and true a line as you can. Kow put on the sheet tidy, if 
you use them ; and they are desirable, even if made of cot- 
ton, and perfectly plain, as after one night's use the upper 
sheet becomes wrinlded and tumbled, and the bed cannot be 
made to look as neat as one could wish. Then lay on the 
bolster, well beaten up, in its clean, white case, placing the 
pillows, which have also been faithfully beaten, above all, 
and dress them with tidies, to match the sheet-tidy. 

Some prefer to have the bolster put on beneath the under- 
sheet, in Avhich case the sheet is drawn so high up as to allow 
plenty of room to fold under the lower side of the bolster, 
before turning under the head of the mattress. 



MARKETING. 91 

A bed thus made will be smooth and level on the top, with- 
out a wrinkle, and as square and straight at the sides as if 
boxed in wood. 

This is all so very simple, after one becomes accustomed to 
it, that the old ladies, who have all the mysteries of house- 
keeping as famUiar and entu'ely at their command as the 
alphabet, will shake their heads and vote this a very stupid 
Avaste of time and space ; but they have forgotten how ac- 
ceptable minute directions were in their young days. So we 
will encourage ourselves by hoping that some tired young 
housekeeper, who has groaned over iU-made beds, may find a 
few crumbs of comfort here, which will remove a part, at 
least, of her many annoyances. 



XXIV. 

MARKETING. 



IT is very important that every lady should understand 
how to select and purchase sucli stores as may be needed 
in her family. This knowledge must be acquired in girlhood. 
Mothers should allow their daughters to accompany them 
occasionally in their market expeditions, quietly explaining, 
as they pass from one stall to another examining the various 
articles needed, their reasons for rejecting or purchasing. 
We are all incHned to put off, from day to day, this part 
of our domestic instructions which our daughters greatly 
need ; "we are too busy," " in a great hurry," and " can't be 
hindered," by answering the thousand whys and where- 
fores with which young children follow us. It is, to be 
sure, sometliing of an annoyance, but very trifling compared 
with the pleasure our daughters will take in going with us 



92 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

through our daily rounds, if we begin this training while 
they are small. Let them occasionally make a few purchases 
themselves ; give them their choice from among certain un- 
important articles, and then explain the rule by which they 
will know how to select the best or reject the imperfect. 
Such lessons must begin early, or, ere we are aware, our ht- 
tle girl has discarded her dolls and stands by our side, a 
lovely woman ; and before we realize this bewildering change 
the voice of the charmer has awaked another love in her 
heart, for which she leaves father and mother for a new 
home and new cares. Happy for us, if we have so taught 
her that this new yoke shall be easy and these new burdens 
Ught. 

In marketing, we would not advise roaming from one store 
or market to another, after one has become sufficiently ac- 
quainted in a city or village to have a correct idea of the 
quality of the produce and the character of the vender. 
UntU this knowledge is well acquired, it is important for 
one's own security to make trial of many ; but when weU 
assured that you have gained a fair estimate of both quality 
and character, it is, we think, better to make most of the pur- 
chases at one place. The grocer, butcher, fish and poultry 
dealer vsdll take greater interest in faithfully serving a regu- 
lar customer, at reasonable rates, than one who may not buy 
of him again for weeks ; and it certainly is a greater saving 
of time and trouble to purchase of one than of many. If 
they cannot supply your present needs, it is for their interest 
to send out and procure what you want ; and we think they 
generally do this with pleasure, and with a hearty wish to 
give you the best. 

In buying Beef, remember that ox beef is the best. The 
animal should be five or six years old before it is killed, if 
you would have .the best beef If well fed it will be fine 
grained ; the lean should be of a bright red color, and well 



MARKETING. 93 

mingled with fat. If there is not a good quantity of fat run- 
ning through it, the beef will be tough and not well flavored. 
The fat should be a rich clear white, just tinged with yellow, 
and firm, and the suet also. Heifer or cow beef is paler than 
ox beef, hrnier grained, the fat a clear white, and the bones 
smaller, but it is not as rich or juicy. When the animal is 
too old or badly fed, it is of a dark red, the fat skinny and 
tough, and in very old beef a horny substance will be found 
running through the ribs. When it is pressed, if the meat 
rises quickly from the finger it is good ; but if the finger- 
dent rises slowly or not at all, do not buy it ; it is poor 
meat. The sirloin and the middle ribs are the best for roast- 
ing. If you buy a sirloin, have it cut from the " chump end,'' 
Avhich has a good undercut or fillet. The rump is often pre- 
ferred by epicures, but being too large to roast whole, a 
roast is usually cut from what is called the " chump end." 
Porter-house steak is the best for broiling, but not the most 
economical. One rib is too small for baking ; it dries in 
cooking, and is not good economy, unless you take out the 
bone, roll the meat and stufi" it, when it makes a nice dish 
for a small family. 

Veal should be small and white, the kidney well covered 
with fat. If the calf is over ten weeks old the meat will be 
coarse. The flesh should be dry and white. If coarse- 
grained, moist, and clammy, have nothing to do with it. The 
fillet, loin, and shoulder are the best for roasting. The breast, 
well cut and jointed, makes a fine stew or pot-pie, and is 
better economy than when baked or roasted. Veal is excel- 
lent to make " stock " for soups ; the knuckle or the poorer 
parts of the neck are just as good for soup as the more 
expensive parts. 

Mutton should be dark colored, and have plenty of fat. 
The color determines the age, and age is considered a mark 
of excellence in mutton. It should be five or six years old 



94 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

to satisfy a lover of mutton. All the joints may be roasted 
but the saddle, and next to that, the haunch ; the leg and 
loin undivided are the best; chops are cut from the loin, 
cutlets from the leg, the best end of the neck, or thick end 
of the loin. The leg and neck are often boiled. 

Lamb should be small, pale red, and fat. It is best roasted. 
The leg, when the lamb attains a good size, is excellent 
boiled. 

Pork should never be bought except from a butcher whose 
honesty you are sure of, and who knows where the pork was 
fattened. It is not a very healthful meat at the best, and 
none should be used unless corn-fed. There is much bad 
or diseased pork sold, and it is very dangerous food. If 
the flesh feels flabby or clammy to the touch, it is not 
good, and should not on any account be used. If there are 
kernels in the fat, let it alone. The fat should be hard, 
the lean white and fine in the gTain, and the rind thin and 
smooth. 

As soon as your meat of any kind is brought home from 
the butcher's, wipe it with a clean dry cloth. If in summer 
you find any " fly-blows," which is very common, cut them 
out at once, and no harm will be done. In the loins a long 
pipe runs by the bone ; that should be taken out immedi- 
ately, or in a few hours it will taint and spoil the whole 
joint. If the meat is not to be used at once, dredge it with 
pepper. Powdered charcoal dusted over meat will help to 
keep it sweet, or will remove any taint already begun. It 
is wise to keep charcoal on hand during warm weather ; it 
is wonderfully efficacious in preserving meat, and, if dusted 
over it wliile hanging, it can all be washed off when you are 
ready to cook it. INIost meat is more tender and easily di- 
gested if kept hanging some time, and charcoal is a great 
and reliable aid in preserving it. Lamb and veal cannot be 
kept as safely as beef and mutton. 



MARKETING. 95 

In choosing Fowls, bear in mind that the male bird, if young, 
will have a smooth leg and a short spur, eyes bright and full, 
feet supple. The hen may be judged by tlie same signs, and 
if these are not found, be sure the birds are stale and old. 

Ducks, geese, and pigeons should have pliable feet ; if 
stiff, they are old. In all the vent should be firm ; if dis- 
colored or flabby, they are stale. This last sign should be 
remembered in judging of all poultry or game. 

The eyes of Fish should be bright, the gills clear red, body 
stiff, and smell not unpleasant, — or rather, not stale, for 
we imagine that fish can never be of a pleasant smell, how- 
ever palatable it may be to the taste. 

As far as possible, buy all stores by the quantity ; if noth- 
ing else, you save the weight of paper, no small item in the 
course of a year ; but there is always some reduction when 
an article is purchased at wholesale. You save the retail 
commission, if notliing more. 

In Avarm weather, meats, of course, cannot be bought in 
large quantities, unless for a large family who are in posses- 
sion of a good ice-house. Ilice, tapioca, raisins, etc., are an 
exception to this rule, for they should never be bought in 
large quantities, except for boarding-houses or hotels, as they 
are very easily filled with insects. 

A store-room should be very dry, and supplied Avith a 
good number of shelves and drawers for stores of all kinds. 
A thick slab should be placed across from one end to the other, 
so high that nothing suspended from it will hit the head 
in passing through it. In this it is well to have some strong 
hooks to hang hams, dried beef, tongues, baskets, etc. A 
neat step-ladder should be kept in one corner, by which you 
can easily reach whatever is needed. These hooks are a 
great convenience, not only to put away your marketing, but 
so many things keep better for being suspended where there 
can be free circulation of air ; and a store-room must be well 



96 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ventilated. Eggs keep well hung up in a basket, or in nets 
made for that purpose. Buy your lemons in June and July, 
when freshest, cheapest, and most plentiful, by the box, and 
suspend them on these hooks in nets, and they will keep all 



XXV. 

TEUST YOUR CHILDEEN. 

THEEE is no lesson that so well repays the teacher as 
that by which children are taught to feel that they are 
trusted ; that father and mother commit matters of impor- 
tance to their care, with confidence that they will not dis- 
appoint them. Begin this teaching while the child is yet 
young. Of course you must gauge the importance of the 
trust by the age of the child, taking care that you do not 
tax the little one beyond its capacity, but being just as care- 
ful to have it understand that you a,re in earnest. It is a 
great event in a child's life when it first feels that you look 
to it with loving confidence for the performance of certain 
duties that you have trusted to its honor. The feeling of 
responsibility which comes with this knowledge awakens 
self-respect, and the care and faithfulness which the youngest 
sees must be necessary to the satisfactory execution of the 
work will be good seed sown, which in after years will bear 
fruit, amply repaying all the trouble it cost to prepare the 
soil for its reception. That such teaching is not the easiest 
duty one can accept, every mother knows full well, and 
would much prefer to do the work herself, if conscience per^ 
mitted, than be subjected to the tediousness and annoyance 
of drilling a child to do it. But this is a mother's mission, 
which it is not wise to delegate to another. 



TRUST YOUR CHILDREN. 97 

When a child has been repeatedly shown precisely how- 
to do certain things, begin to leave these little chores for it 
to do alone when you are not near. Let it be something 
trivial at first, of course. Say to the little two-year-old, 
" Mamma nnist go out for a little while. I am sorry to leave 
the nursery in such disorder ; but Eddie is such a helpfid 
little man, he will put all the blocks and ' Noah's Ark ' up 
just as I like to see them ; and little Kitty, too, knows 
how I wish her to fold the doll's clothes and lay them in the 
drawer, when her play is over ; I am sure tliis room will 
look very nice when I return." 

If this kindly training is begun early, do you not know 
how proud and happy these miniature men and women mil 
feel when this work is intrusted to their care, — a token of 
mother's confidence in their ability ] Of course, it may be 
necessary to be a little short-sighted when you return, and 
pass over for the time some few items that will bear im- 
provement ; but let these wait. Appear pleased — he pleased 
— with their efibrts ; give as much sweet praise as is judi- 
cious, to gladden their little hearts. It will be time enough 
when the next trial is made to say, " I think I would fold 
this little dress so," or, " Put those books here." Gentle 
hints, interspersed with all possible approval, will fix the 
lesson, so that you can soon feel safe to put the play-room 
almost wholly in the care of quite young children, except the 
sweeping or other work beyond their strength. But these 
lessons, as we said before, must begin early, else the child 
will learn to prefer being waited upon to doing the work itself. 

As your child can bear it, add year by year to the trust 
and responsibility. Accept the labor as a love-offering 
to save your time and strength, and it will not be long be- 
fore willing hands and happy hearts will really lighten your 
labors, and save you many weary steps, while at the same 
time they are learning a lesson that will do them good 
5 G ■ 



98 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

througli life. Vary the teacliing, by sending the cliild, by 
and by, out to do a little shopping, — some small thing, but 
such as will call for the exercise of taste and a little judg- 
ment ; nothing of much importance, so that, should there 
chance to be a slight mistake, no great harm will follow ; yet 
so much that the child, by thus learning to judge and discrim- 
inate in small things, will be preparing for greater ones. 

An expedition of this kind stands out among the bright- 
est of our childhood memories. It was in a season of severe 
sickness both at home and in the \'icinity. Our mother was 
ill, the older children either on the sick list or absent. It 
was quite necessary to send to the shire town, twelve miles 
distant, where, in those "long-ago" days, the most impor- 
tant shopping was done, and the foreign groceries purchased. 
Father had his buggy at the door just ready to start on this 
tour, and was making a list of the last items, and directions 
from mother, when he was summoned in great haste to a 
patient. Here was a dilemma ! The purchases must be 
made ; the patient must be cared for. What was to be 
done '? We were sitting in the south hall-door, playing with 
the baby, so near to the sick-room that we coidd not help 
hearing the consultation. Father must go to his patient ; 
but who was to go for the articles so greatly needed 1 The 
" tailoress " would be on hand in the morning, and the cloth 
must be had for her work ; a tailoress was an important 
character in those days, and if we lost our turn there would 
be weeks to wait before we could secure her again. That 
would never do, for " the boys " must soon return to school, 
and their clothes be ready, anyhow. What could be done ] 
We heard the hurried talk, with a kind of dreamy wonder 
as to how they would settle the troublesome question ; but, 
as one who could have no personal interest in the solution, 
went on with our frolic with baby, when mother said, 
"Write out a list, with full directions, and send E ." 



TRUST YOUR CHILDREN. 99 

What a bound our heart gave ! We nearly dropped the 
baby. We, not twelve years old ; and mother thought we 
could be trusted to do such a big thing ! We felt a half- 
head taller only to think that mother — bless her ! — thought 
us capable of it. Whether it was decided that we should 
go or not was, just then, quite a secondary consideration, yet 
we were " all ears " to catch father's reply : " Send that 
child ! What does she know of buying anytliing 1 And 
this is a very important errand." 

Ah ! here our heart collapsed ; we did n't quite want to go, 
— the work seemed so great, — but we did want father to 
think us as trustworthy and capable as mother did. 

" If you think it safe for her to drive alone so far, I think 
you may trust her to do the errand well, with suitable direc- 
tions. The merchants and grocers are old friends, and will 
not take advantage of the child." 

" Well, it is the only thing we can do," said father, with 
an anxious, dissatisfied tone, and this great responsibility was 
committed _tp our care. 

How much we thought in that long twelve-miles ride to 
the town ! What anxious thoughts on the return ride, fear- 
ing that we had forgotten something, or made some ill-ad- 
vised purchase ; but under it all there was a dull pain to 
remember that father did n't quite trust us, which did not 
leave us until, safe at home, all the purchases laid out and 
examined, he drew us to his knee, close by mother's sick- 
bed, and kissed us, with, "Well done, my brave girl ! Has 
n't she done well, mother ] " 

How much good that day's work did us, giving us courage 
when duties seemed too hard for us, we can never estimate ; 
but the most precious of all was our mother's trust and 
father's approbation. It is only by love and gentleness that 
a child can be taught to find real enjoyment in later or im- 
portant cares. Exact it as a duty ; sternly command, watch, 



100 MOTHERLY TALKS WTTH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

with constant suspicion and fault-finding, and labor is a 
drudgery, and cares of any kind a terror to the young. The 
child either becomes stubborn, or, if timid and loving, is so 
nervously fearful of being blamed, that this very fear insures 
the dreaded results. Ah, if young mothers could know how 
many hours of self-reproach the grandmothers pass as they 
look to the time when their little ones were around them, 
and see, too late, how many mistakes they made simply by 
their own impatience, over-strictness, and want of confidence 
in their children's good intention and desire to do right, it 
might save them from much regret, and their children from 
many temptations. But each one must have an experience 
of her own. When young, we seldom are ready to profit 
by the experience of the old, or think them of much more 
importance than " old wives' fables," but when, after many 
mistakes, we arrive at middle age, we are able to estimate 
their value. 



XXVI. 

WHO INVENTED BREAD? 

AMOITG the countless varieties of food, bread, in some 
form or other, has been almost universally recognized 
as " the staff of life." When it became so truly a neces- 
sity, or who was the happy inventor, we know not. How 
far before the creation wise men have pushed their researches 
and discoveries, we have not the skill to ascertain. The 
first mention of bread we remember is in the third chapter 
of Genesis, when Adam was driven from Paradise and com- 
pelled " in the sweat of his face to eat bread," " because he 
hearkened to the voice of his wife." . Many of his sons 
liave, since their forefathers' time, regained Paradise, because 



WHO INVENTED BREAD? 101 

they did listen to their wives' counsels. We wonder if men 
do not sometimes forget this, and cherish a little spiteful 
vindictiveness, because through the first mother their proto- 
type fell, and he had to " work for his living." Perhaps it 
is this memory which makes them so restive under the 
present efforts for a recognition of a broader platform for 
" women's rights." How silly, brethren ! Let bygones be 
bygones. Did not the curse fall heavier on us for our first 
mother's folly, than on you for Adam's very ready participa- 
tion in it ? Don't bear malice ! Help us up, — not above 
you, for we do not belong there, but close by your side, — 
where we may do good to you, as you do good to us. If 
Adam had not been off on a council committee, public din- 
ner, or at a club house, but working and caring for his farm 
in Eden with liis wife, we don't believe Eve would have 
been tempted, or, being tempted, would have eaten that mis- 
erable apple. But we shall never learn how bread was in- 
vented if we linger. 

" Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the 
ground." The production of grain for food has always been 
recognized as the sign of an advanced stage of civilization. 
Like most of the early traces of progress, the time when 
grain first began to be transformed into bread is quite ob- 
scure. For a long period the grain was eaten, when green, 
either raw, boiled, or roasted. The Greeks usually deified 
every new thing. Ceres was supposed to have first brought 
husbandry into some regular system ; therefore they at once 
constituted her the goddess of Agriculture ; and Pan, ac- 
cording to their belief, invented bread, and was forthwith 
exalted into a god ; but long before Ceres or Pan were wor- 
shipped, the Egyptians cultivated the earth and made bread 
from the grain. 

When the angels appeared on the plains of Mamre and 
foretold the birth of a son, in Abraham's old age, he has- 



102 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

tened into a tent and said to Sarah, " Make ready quickly 
three measures of meal, knead it, and make cakes upon the 
hearth." 

Many modes of preparing grain, either in cakes or bread, 
are seen in the paintings discovered in the tombs of the 
Egyptians ; but doubtless for many years the chief food was 
fish, flesh, or fruit. The Indians used a kind of wild corn, 
when driven to it by the scarcity of game, or if unsuccess- 
ful in hunting ; but they never attempted to cultivate it. 
They boiled it when green, or baked it on hot stones, or 
roasted it by their fires, as we do the cultivated Indian com. 
Maize or Turkish wheat and a kind of miUet are still used, 
unground, among the poorer classes in Egypt, boiled in milk 
or water, or roasted. 

At a later period, rude stones were made to separate the 
husks from the kernel ; and not long since, it may be 
even now, in the remote parts of Scotland, a large block 
of hard wood was dug out smootUy, and after the grain had 
been well dried, the barley or oats was beaten in it till the 
husk was removed. "When sufficiently broken or bruised to 
loosen the hull, it was scooped up into the hand, little by 
little, and blown gently with the mouth to remove all the 
husk, and then made into pottage or porridge. It now 
seems a small thing to have all our grain ground and sifted 
by machinery worked by steam ; but how tedious must have 
been the ancient process ! The quern used in Scotland to 
remove the husk and prepare the barley for use is supposed 
to have found its way thither through the Eomans, who al- 
ways carried hand-mills in their marches or raids upon other 
nations. It is very simple, and perhaps the first kind of 
corn mill on record. " The quern was made of two stones," 
says Dr. Johnson, " a foot and a half in diameter ; the 
lower stone a little convex ; to which the concavity of the 
upper stone was fitted. In the middle of the upper one 



WHO INVENTED BREAD? 103 

was a round hole, and on one side a long handle. The 
grinder gradually shred the corn into this hole with one 
hand, and worked the handle with the other. Thus the 
corn slid down into the hollow of the lower stone, and hy 
the motion of the upper was ground in the passage." The 
quern acts so much on the principle of our miU-stones that 
our mills might be called querns, built on a larger scale, and 
run by steam or machinery. The meal thus ground was 
made into pottage or porridge, being boiled in milk or water, 
or " brose " when it was roasted, and boiled up in water in 
which salt meat had been cooked. 

Who first conceived the idea of using yeast or leaven, or 
making bread by any process of fermentation, or at what 
period it was first so made, we do not learn. We laiow that 
the Israelites made leavened bread ; so did the Egyptians 
and Grecians ; but who first invented yeast or leaven 1 The 
Romans, it is thought, learned the art of bread-making, with 
many other valuable lessons, during their war with Perseus, 
king of Macedon. On the return of their armies from 
these wars, they brought Grecian bakers with them into 
Italy. This was two hundred years before the Christian 
era. Bakers were highly esteemed, and during the reign of 
Augustus there were three hundred and twenty-nine public 
bake-houses in Rome, chiefly under the management of 
Greeks, who were for many years the only ones who could 
make good bread. They enjoyed many privileges, and were 
put in charge of the public granaries. 

The making of fermented bread then gradually found its 
way into Gaul ; but it was a long time before it was known 
in IS'orthern Europe. In the middle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, unfermented cakes were the only bread known in 
Sweden or Norway. It was not till near the end of the 
sixteenth century that the use of yeast was much known in 
l^orthern Europe. About that period yeast from Flanders 



104 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

was brought into Paris as a substitute for leaven. This 
change greatly improved the bread; but in 1688 the College 
of Physicians declared that bread made from yeast was 
very injurious, and the government forbade its being used. 
But the shrewd Flemish people put up yeast in sacks to 
allow the liquid part to filter through, and privately sent it 
to Paris. The excellence of the bread thus made became so 
evident, that the College of Physicians and their wisdom 
were forgotten, and the government's prohibition quietly 
allowed to sink into oblivion. Very soon this new and 
improved method of preparing bread extended into other 
countries. 

Leaven is flour and water mixed to a paste and set in a 
warm place — from 70° to 80° — till it ferments, first pass- 
ing into the vinous and then to the acetous state. Bread 
made from leaven differs from that made from yeast by 
almost always having an acid taste. A piece of dough, from 
well-raised bread, set aside on ice or in a cool place, and 
worked into the next batch to be made, gives the best mode 
of making leaven ; and by working a little soda into it before 
setting the sponge, will make very fine bread, without the 
acidity common to leavened bread, if managed with care. 

Wheat bread is now common in most countries. The best 
and whitest is made from the flour of the first grinding. 
Gluten is a very important part of flour, and it is that which 
gives wheat the superiority over all other grains, it being 
found only in small quantities in any other. It is the gluten 
which helps to form the adhesive paste essential to secure 
fermentation. It is common in the animal kingdom, but 
rare in the vegetable, and therefore is sometimes called the 
vegeto-animal 2^fi'>^ciple. The more gluten the better and 
more nutritious the flour. The loss of this principle, by 
sprouting, mildew, etc., destroys the adhesive power so 
necessary to making good bread. The best qualities of 



WHO INVENTED BREAD? 105 

flour take up the largest quantity of moisture ; the amount 
which can be absorbed depends on the quantity of gluten. 
In dry weather, flour requires more moisture than in wet, 
and long and faithful kneading will add to the power of 
absorption, without making the bread too thin. Common 
salt and alum are often used to give poor flour the tender- 
ness and whiteness of good brands. A little salt is good, 
but too much is injurious, both to the bread and to the 
health, — alum still more injurious. Liebig recommends 
lime-water in bread-making. A quarter of a pound of 
slacked lime to a gallon of pure rain or distilled water, 
kept in closely stopped bottles ; two and a half pints of the 
"lime-water to nine pou^nds of flour, he says, will make a 
sweet, fine-grained, elastic bread of exquisite flavor. The 
lime-water to be mixed with the flour before the yeast is 
added. Of course, it will not be enough moisture for that 
amount of flour, and as much more water is added as is 
needed. Liebig claims that the lime will give the wheat a 
larger amount of bone-making element, and therefore be 
more nutritious. 

Rice flour, or potatoes combined with flour, help to take 
up moisture, and keep bread from drying. Eye flour 
makes a dark-colored bread, but is sweet and palatable, re- 
taining moisture longer than Avheat. Indian meal, mixed 
with rye, and a spoonful or two of molasses added with the 
yeast, makes the ISTew England brown bread ; but to have 
that in perfection it should be baked in a brick oven, and 
remain all night ; then, warm and fresh for breakfast, it is 
unrivalled. 

Graham bread is made from unbolted wheat, the bran not 
separated from the flour. The coarse meal swells more in 
rising, and should not be made so stifl" as fine flour. It 
sours more quickly, requires a hotter oven, and longer time 
to bake. Much kneading is essential to cement together the 
5* 



106 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

starch, sugar, albumen, and gluten found in wheat. It is 
not easy to knead bread sufficiently for a satisfactory result. 
Many machines for this purpose have been invented, but we 
have yet to see one that can be as fully depended upon as a 
strong arm and a skillful hand. The hand only can decide 
truly when every lump is dissolved, and suitable combina- 
tions made. When the dough springs under the touch, in- 
stead of clinging to the fingers, when the fist bears its full 
impression in the dough, and none adheres to the hand, the 
cook may cease from the labor. This labor may be lightened 
by pounding and chopping at intervals, and with much bene- 
fit ; but the hand is the chief dependence. 

If the yeast is bitter, pour on water, and let it stand a 
few hours ; then drain it off, and use the thick part which 
has settled at the bottom. The water will absorb the bitter- 
ness, unless it is from age, and not because of too many 
hops. In this case, a piece of charcoal heated through, but 
not so hot as to kill the yeast, thrown into the yeast jar, 
wiU correct it; but we should prefer to tlirow away the 
yeast, and make new. 

When all the rules for making good bread have been faith- 
fully followed, all will fail if not properly baked. We think 
nothing has yet been found that is equal to the brick oven ; 
but in whatever oven you bake, one rule is common to all, 
— see that the heat is just right ; from 350° to 400° is the 
proper range for bread. If fresh flour or meal is thrown on 
the bottom of the oven, and tiirns a clear brown at once, it 
is right ; if it becomes black the oven is too hot. 

We have been greatly indebted to Webster's " Encyclopae- 
dia of Domestic Economy," and Professor Youman's " Hand- 
book of Domestic Science," for our information, on bread. 



HOW ABOUT THE LITTLE GIRLS? 107 

XXVII. 

HOW ABOUT THE LITTLE GIRLS? 

" A SHORT time since you advocated ' teaching little 
ur\. boys to be useful ' by training them to do, indoors 
or out, whatever, for the time being, lay within the compass 
of their strength and ability. But now we wish to ask, How 
about little girls ? The boys say it is n't fair to call upon 
them to perform ' girls' work,' unless the girls are made to 
reciprocate the favor, and are willing to take their turn in 
doing ' boys' Avork ' when necessary." 

Bless your httle hearts, dear boys ! "Who objects to 
that 1 Xot the little girls, certainly. Is n't it just what 
many of the big girls are seeking to do, and the big boi/s — 
" children of a larger growth " than you, my little man — 
are striving to prevent 1 Where is the girl, unless she has 
by fashion and conventionalities been unnaturally biassed, 
who would not gladly, once in a while, exchange sewing, 
sweeping, and dusting for a run out into the free air and 
glad sunshine, to take your place, and do your work, — feed 
the chickens, weed in the garden, hoe the corn, milk the 
cows, or rake the hay, — though modern improvements have 
of late cheated them of half such pleasures ? Anything that 
little boys can do, little girls would think " such fun," if they 
might occasionally have the privilege of doing it, — country 
girls, we mean, — God help those whose home is in the city ! 
There are so few pleasures there that the young can eujoy in 
the open air. To walk on hard, cold sidewalks, dressed like 
little ballet-dancers, or ride over the rough pavements, with 
no free, untrammeled movement, or through the dirty 
streets, with their vile, impure smells, can give no such joys 



108 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

as our country damsels, with their larger inheritance and 
more abundant blessings, are in daily possession of. There 
is nothing equal to the pleasure our Httle folks may find, in 
any kind "of outdoor employment, that is suited to their age 
and strength. These simple labors prepare them for larger 
and more important duties, and the knowledge will bring 
abiding comfort and self-reliance as they advance in age and 
intelligence. 

" WiU not such work make girls coarse, romping, and hoy- 
denish ? Eough, noisy boys are bad enough ; would you 
have our girls become like them 1 " 

Is it the outdoor work that makes them so 1 Is it not 
rather the overflow of animal spirits that can find no way 
of escape but by boisterous, wild action? It is not very 
agreeable to the old and staid, to be sure, and it certainly 
is less annoying outdoors than in ; yet it promotes health, 
and is only what we all did, or longed to do, in our youth. 
Age will soon tame the wild spirits, or restrain a too exuber- 
ant overflow, and nothing keeps them in check like pleasant 
labor. There are, to be sure, sometimes unfortunate associ- 
ations with really coarse, rude natures, which are very objec- 
tionable. We would never allow girls or boys to come under 
such influence if we could help it ; but that evil is to be 
found in every position, — as often in the house as in the 
field, — and if not inherent in your child's own character, the 
influence will soon be discarded, the dross be separated, and 
the purer nature rise dominant. You must go out of the 
world to insure safety from such contact. 

" But country girls are not often ladylike and graceful ; 
and work outdoors will tend to make them still more awk- 
ward. I could n't endure to see my little girl brought up 
under such influences." 

We have never found in the city more graceful, ladylike, 
intelligent, pure-minded girls than we have seen in the coun- 



HOW ABOUT THE LITTLE GIRLS? 109 

try ; but we have sometimes noticed that those who live 
nearest to the city, or have spent much time there, too often 
acquire artificial habits, affectation, coquetry, loud, bold speech, 
or a fondness for dress, too stylish for a truly modest girl's 
adorning, that is seldom seen in real country life. We do 
not think that any kind or amount of labor wiU make one 
less modest or ladyhke. We believe that our girls should 
know how to do, with their own hands, everything that they 
have strength for, and thereby secure and establish vigor and 
capacity for duties that, in after years, may fall to their lot. 
We do not mean that outdoor labor should be their habitual 
emj)loyment. We wish them to have the actual knowledge ; 
but the heavier work, which more appropriately belongs to 
boys and men, should be undertaken by girls and women 
only on an emergency. Then love or will, or both united, 
can make woman strong to do the hardest work, if she has 
the knowledge, while the necessity lasts. It is because such 
calls may be made on every one all through Ufe, that we 
^ would have each one secure the knowledge early ; but in ex- 
treme cases, the overstrain on a woman's physical life, if long 
continued, will compel the payment of large interest in later 
years, and therefore should be undertaken through necessity 
only. God has not organized man and woman alike, physi- 
cally ; nor, do we believe, mentally either. We hasten to 
add, lest we should be arraigned for heresy, that we do not 
say they are not equal, but only different ; the question 
of equality we wait for their own works to answer. Woman 
has sweeter, tenderer, dearer duties, demanding an organiza- 
tion distinct from that which fits man for his rougher, harder, 
more extended, more public, but not more noble work. We 
hear of women who have cut down their timber, built their 
walls, ploughed their fields, or done the blacksmithing for the 
neighborhood with their own hands, from choice, — a kind 
of work which we could not do, and woidd not if we could, 



110 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

unless driven to it by some pressing necessity ; but we should 
like to store up the knowledge how to do it against the time 
of need. Still, we need not object if others take pleasure in 
it. Yet will not their own bodies, when they leave youth 
behind and go down to middle age, bear -witness against 
tlie unnatural strain which they have been subjected tol 
Those whose office it is " to replenish the earth " cannot make 
these violent drafts upon their system with impunity. It is 
not for a regular, daily occupation that we would desire to 
have girls taught how to do their brothers' work as well as 
their own, though much that pertains to that will always be 
pleasant and attractive, and light work in the open air will 
always furnish healthy exercise for our girls ; but we want 
to see every member of the family so educated that there 
may never occur a vacancy about the home that some one, 
girl or boy, man or woman, is not able and willing to step 
into and fill satisfactorily. To this end, faithfully teach your 
little ones, girls or boys, to put their hands to any work that 
is necessary. 

" Next you will tell us to let our girls saw and split wood, 
milk the cows, harness and unharness the horse, etc." 

Yes. "Why not ? They should know how to do all this, 
and do it well ; and try it often enough to feel at ease and 
without fear in the effort, and that will be sufficient for the 
present. But suppose in a few years your daughter marries, 
and goes from you to some distant settlement where neigh- 
bors are scarce and " help " uncertain. Gii'ls of wealth and 
refinement have done such things. Let the monotony of 
frontier life be occasionally enlivened by a real attack of 
chills and fever in which all take a part. When husband 
and " help," if your daughter is so fortunate as to secure any, 
take their turn in shaking, will not the wife look back to the 
time when brother WiU and she had their miniature saws 
and hatchets, and made much sport in preparing the kin- 



HOW ABOUT THE LITTLE GIRLS 1 111 

dlings 1 Won't she see that the knowledge how to do tliis, 
which was simply amusement then, has been stored up for 
real service now 1 She little thought when grandpa taught 
lier to milk old Brindle without fear of the gentle animal, 
how she woidd thank him for it in this far-off home. Are 
you sure that jout little girl will never be placed in circum- 
stances, for oidy a few hours perhaps, when she would be 
most thankful to know how to do any one of these things 1 
Can you not imagine circumstances where it would be an 
incalculable blessing 1 We can, any number of them, not at 
all beyond the bounds of possibility. We have known cases 
where it was almost a matter of life or death, that a lady 
should have skill and courage to harness a horse and hasten 
for help. These cases may be rare ; yet if they come but 
once in a lifetime, is not the lesson worth the learning 1 If 
you were driving a team — a very desirable accomplisluii.ent 
for any young lady — and the harness should break or be- 
come unfastened, ought you not, for your own safety, to 
know how to repair the mischief? Every girl should early 
learn how each part of the harness must be adjusted, else 
the pleasure and independence of being able to drive when 
older will be attended with much risk, and often with fatal 
consequences. Youth — early childhood — is the time to 
secure this knowledge, that you may be prepared to use it 
with confidence and self-control when needed. Even if it is 
never needed in later life, knowing how will not injure any 
one. 



112 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XXVIIL 

STEALING SERVANTS. 

IJf The Christian Union a while ago, " Laicus " gives 
the history of a transaction between two neighbors, in 
which he thinks the indignation manifested by one of the 
parties was uncalled for, and her objection to the proceeding 
of the other " but a relic of the old-time slave system." The 
case given was in this wise. 

Mrs. Potiphar, it seems, " picks up a little girl in New 
York, and goes through aU the trouble, discomfort, and anx- 
iety of teaching her, until she becomes, at last, a very useful 
and efficient servant." Those who have undertaken the train- 
ing of young girls, not their own, will agree that Mrs. Poti- 
phar's task was not an enviable one, and that the girl owed her 
a debt of gratitude, which faithful, willing service alone could 
pay. As the child improved under this training, wages were 
given, until after five years' education she received ten doUars 
a month. Mrs. Potiphar, appreciating the good quahties the 
girl had developed, failed not to give her ample praise ; said 
she was " worth her weight in gold," an expression very 
common, yet not usually taken literally ; but she did not in- 
crease her wages. It may have been that she gave all that the 
work demanded of her was worth, or all that she could afford 
to give ; it matters not which ; it is no evidence, however, 
that she wished to defraud the girl of her just dues ; it ar- 
gues no injustice on Mrs. Potiphar's part. But good friends, 
kind neighbors, behind her back, said it was a shame to pay 
Sophia so little ; whUe to the lady's face, however, they gave 
smiles and congratulations " upon her good luck." Ah, what 
a pity that gossiping, meddling, and backbiting should be 



STEALING SERVANTS. 113 

fouiid in this beautiful world of ours. How much trouble 
and mischief these vices have caused ! Much of the discom- 
fort and disturbance in our households springs from this evil 
spirit, making servants fickle and unfaithful, and their mis- 
tresses' life a burden. And it is all so needless ! There is 
little fear, even when not tampered with, that girls will re- 
main long on Low wages, unless the privileges and kind care 
bestowed upon them are of more value than larger pay, and 
they have the good sense so to understand it. Every girl 
has a perfect right to seek the highest remuneration, and so 
that she gives her present employer reasonable notice, to en- 
able her to secure other assistance, or to ofl'er her larger 
wages, however great the disappointment to the lady may be, 
the girl has acted honorably and is worthy of no censure. 
^But in the case cited by " Laicus," Mrs. Chessleburg's course 
is so repugnant, so foreign to all our ideas of honor, that we 
shoid.d hope there was some mistake in print, did we not 
know such acts are of daily occurrence. 

Mrs. Potiphar has an excellent waiting-maid, just what 
Mrs. Chessleburg wants. Mrs. Chessleburg is much exer- 
cised in her mind because Mrs. Potiphar gives the poor girl 
such low wages. 

*' She is well worth fourteen dollars a month to me, if she 
is worth a penny." Four dollars extra would be quite an 
addition to Sophia's income. To be sure it would. So her 
nurse-girl goes confidentially {privately we presume that 
means) and tells Sophia that Mrs. Chessleburg will give her 
fourteen dollars a month if she will leave the lady, who, five 
years ago, " picked her up in N'ew York," and has taught her, 
during these years, to be such a desirable servant. The girl 
goes, of course. Mrs. Potiphar thinks it mean " to steal her 
girl away in that style." So do we. Is it strange that we 
think Mrs. Chessleburg's desire to right the girl's supposed 
wrongs had its oricHn less in real benevolence than in the 



114 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

selfish anxiety to secure a valuable servant for herself 1 We 
certainly must, notwithstanding " Laicus's " perplexity, join 
with the ladies in thinking Mrs. Chessleburg's proceeding 
highly objectionable, and are confident employees as well as 
employers will agree in this matter. 

We read the article in question to the superintendent of 
our farm, and said, " How does this strike you 1 How 
shall we answer this question 1 If the girl's work was worth 
more than ten doUars, was it not right that she should have 

" Yes ; but I should n't think that was the right way for 
a lady to do 1 Why did n't she go to the girl's mistress, in- 
stead of sending her nursemaid to the girl privately 1 I 
don't think any lady would do such a thing." 

" Well ! I think you are right about house servants. But. 
on the farm, in your position, for instance, as foreman, there 
is some difference, is there not ] Supposing some gentleman 
should offer you more than we do, what would you think of 
that?" 

" That he was no gentleman. I don't see the difference. 
If he wished to make any such offer, he should go to my em- 
ployer and state the case, but not to me." 

" But you are not bound to stay with us. If you can bet- 
ter yourself, you have a perfect right to do so. You are a 
free man." 

" Yes, I know that ; but I think there should be some 
honor, if there is no law, about such things ; and I don't think 
a gentleman acts honorably who tempts a man with offers of 
higher wages to leave his employer's service. Let him go, 
like a man, to the proprietor of the work himself." 

" Maggie," said we afterward, " if a lady should send one 
of her girls to you with an offer for more wages than I give, 
what would you thinl?: of it 1 " 

" 0, I 've had that trick tried on me, ma'am ! ISTo lad^ 



STEALING SERVANTS. 115 

would do it, and I 'd net risk living with any one who would 
connive at such a mean thing." 

" Why, what Avould you have her do 1 " 

" Come right to yer, ma'am, or advertise. Sure the papers 
are open to any one who chooses to advertise." 

Now, this subject appears too clear for any question of 
right or wrong, lil^erty or slavery. The same course — open 
and ahove-board — should be plain to both employer and 
employe. Among business men this law of honor is fully 
understood. The amount of wages in all employments is 
well defined. Custom fixes the prices for specified labor. It 
is those who offer beyond the accepted rates who cause most 
of the trouble experienced in all classes of labor. 

A manufacturer engages a certain number of men to work 
in his mill. He offers and they accept the regular rates of 
payment. A neighboring manufacturer is short of hands, and 
privately goes to these men, bribing them, for it is nothing 
short of a bribe, Avith offers of higher wages to leave their 
present work and come to him. If their ideas of honor are 
no higher than his own, they wiU probably accept the bribe, 
and their first employer's mills must stand idle until he can 
secure others to fiU their places. Would you not call this 
dishonorable 1 This is acceded to in the outdoor world, 
among merchants, mechanics, manufacturers, and farmers. 
But how much more sacred, how much stronger, should this 
code of honor be to us, in the family ! 

If we learn that a girl has '' given warning " to her em- 
ployer of her intention to leave, we have a perfect right to 
try and secure her ; but to avoid the least appearance of evil, 
to do trvdy " as we would be done by," we should think it 
but wise and just to go first to the lady and signify our 
wishes, making such inquiries as may be needed. In the case 
giA'en by " Laicus," however, the nurse-maid is sent, and 
offers of higher wages given through her. The girl is boiight. 



116 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

We cannot think it acting honorably by the mistress or 
kindly by the maid. If tempted once to act secretly, she 
probably can be again, and from a useful, reliable servant 
may become one on whom there can be no dependence. 

If this mode of securing assistance is accepted as a correct 
and honorable practice, no one is safe. In every department 
we shall be at the mercy of the selfish and unscrupulous. 

The laborer is evidently worthy of his hire, and in this 
country no class of people are likely to remain long in igno- 
rance of the price they can command, or to estimate their 
ability at too low a rate. 

We object to no one's obtaining the full value for his 
work, but claim that there should be no meddling, no under- 
hand work to buy servants or laborers from another, by the 
private offer of larger wages. Advertising is open to all, and 
brmgs the needed help to you ; but if you do not choose 
that mode of supplying yourselves with laborers, then let the 
employer be applied to, and if you can give his or her ser- 
vants better terms than they now receive, there are not many 
who will not advise them to accept the offer. We do not 
think that ladies enact any such law, as that " no servant 
shaU be offered a better post than the one now occupied, so 
long as he or she remains in it " ; but we do claim that the 
good old nile should be as fully recognized in deahng with 
a neighbor's servant as in everything else, namely, " Do unto 
others as ye would that others should do unto you." 



FALL CLEANING. 117 

XXIX. 

FALL CLEANING. 

THE summer is over and gone ; cold nights and morn- 
ings have so frightened and subdued the flies, that it is 
easy to hunt them from the house, and hy a little extra 
watchful] less prevent their gaining possession again. The 
sun, still quite warm and summer-like in the middle of the 
day, tempts them out from their hiding-places, and they will 
swarm in at open doors and windows, if unprotected by wire 
and net frames, in great numbers. Take care that these safe- 
guards are doing duty whenever windows or doors are opened 
for ventilation or comfort, else the skilKul little manoeuvrers 
will soon gain access. Drive them out toward night into the 
cool evening air. A few really cold nights will free you 
from these vexatious intruders, and enable you to commence 
fall cleaning in peace and safety. The danger always is, 
that this part of fall labor will be undertaken too early. 
The first ten or twelve days of September are usually raw 
and cold. The flies, crawling into warm nooks and corners, 
pretend to be asleep. The housekeeper, forgetting the ex- 
perience of former years, hastens to get out scrub-cloths, 
brushes, and all the implements of house-cleaning. Those 
Avhose homes are in the city hurry back Avith the first pufi" 
of cold air, believing that flies and heat have both alike de- 
parted for the season. But they soon learn that this is a 
great mistake. These chilly, cold days are usually followed 
by ten days or a fortnight as warm as midsummer, and gen- 
erally quite unhealthy. Nothing but real necessity should 
tempt any to leave the country before they have fuUy en- 
joyed the most perfect month of the whole year, — October. 



118 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

But whether in city or country, those who attempt to do 
theii' fall cleaning in September will have short-lived satis- 
faction compared with the comfort derived from the same 
work in October. Flies, spiders, and wasps, if not harmless 
then, are at least so far disabled as to be easily conquered, 
and until that is accomplished, house-cleaning on a large scale 
is wasted labor. 

The first thing to be done, preparatory to house-cleaning, 
is to have aU the chimneys thoroughly swept, and the fur- 
nace, range, and grate flues, not only perfectly cleaned from 
soot, but examined by a competent workman ; especially is 
this needful if the house has been closed or only partially 
used during the summer. Before real winter weather comes, 
everything of this kind should be in perfect order. 

Ha'\-3 the furnace-grate examined, as it may have been 
corroded by rust while unused, or so far burned out that, if 
neglected, some cold morning when a bright glowing fire 
is most needed it may break down and let your fire out. It 
will not be pleasant to sit shivering while the old grate is 
being mended or a new one fitted. The range-grate and fire- 
bricks must also be looked after and repaired for winter use. 
A little attention now will save much expense and discom- 
fort later in the season. 

If carpenters' or masons' work, whitewashing, painting, 
glazing, or plumbing is needed, it should all be done before 
any cleaning is attempted. If left till afterward, tliis kind 
of work is a great terror to housekeepers. To secure season- 
able attention to all these matters, it is essential that the 
mechanics who are needed should be engaged some weeks in 
advance ; but remember that such workmen are, unfortun- 
ately, not as good in keeping promises as in breaking them ; 
therefore watch closely, and hold them to their agreement. 
This habit of promising more than can be performed is a 
very pernicious one, and in the end most unj)rofitable. Me- 



FALL CLEANING. 119 

chanics are tempted to this dishonorable practice by anx- 
iety to secure a good job. Knowing the great demand for 
labor, they imagine if they promise to do your work at a 
given time, come and do a little, then go to some one else, 
leaving your work half finished, then back to you again for 
a while, — the second party annoyed by the same vexatious 
delay, — that your necessity compels you to endure silently 
if not patiently. You may submit for this once, but never 
burn your fingers twice at the same fire. Let it once be 
understood that employers of all kinds look upon a broken 
promise as destroying all confidence, and that they will 
under no circumstances give a promise-breaker ar second op- 
portunity to beguile them, and this great trial to grace and 
patience would soon be overcome. 

While repairs are going on, bring down all the woolen gar- 
ments, blankets, furs, or pieces of carpeting that have been 
stored away for the summer. Take them out on the grass- 
plat under your clothes- line, before removing the wrappers, 
for the preparation in which they have been put away is not 
very pleasant to the smell, particularly if it is Poole's pow- 
der, which we think the safest as weU as the most disagree- 
able. If it is a windy day, hang all on the clothes-line for 
a good snapping before you attempt to brush them, and most 
of the poAvder will blow off. After an hour or two in sun 
and wind, brush them well with a nice whisk-broom, and, 
when done, the garments and blankets may be put in their 
proper places and the pieces of carpeting sewed up in bag- 
ging or canvas or put into a spare trunk. They will need 
no more powder till spring, if carefully stored and occasion- 
ally aired through the winter. 

The coal, of course, you had put into the cellar last spring, 
as it is usually cheaper about May than in the fall. The 
ashes and soot having been removed, the flues, furnace, and 
grates all in order, the house should now be swept from the 



120 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

attic to the cellar. Ingrain and three-ply carpets ought to 
be taken up every year, unless in rooms but little used, and 
after being well shaken or taken to the carpet-shaking mill, 
they should be laid out of the way till the room from which 
they were taken is cleaned. Brussels, Wiltons, Axministers, 
and all the heavier carpets should not be raised oftener than 
every three years. Very little dust sifts tlirough such fabrics, 
and careful sweeping and the use of a good " carpet-sweeper " 
will preserve them from all harm. In sweeping, preparatory 
to cleaning, it is well to draw the tacks in the corners and 
turn such heaA'^y carpets back, so that with a whisk-broom any 
dirt that may have settled there can be easily removed. It 
is but little work, and the corners can be readily tacked 
down again. 

When the sweeping is all done, a most thorough dusting 
is the next operation, so that wood-work, walls, and gas- 
brackets may be free from loose dirt before water is used. 
The paint is much easier cleaned after this than if the dust 
were allowed to remain and be washed off. Some recommend 
the latter to save time. We think it wastes time. 

The walls should be dusted with a long-handled feather- 
duster, then with a clean dry cloth pinned smoothly over a 
clean broom ; wipe them down evenly, beginning at the top 
and passing in a straight line, " by a tliread " as a seamstress 
would say, to the bottom, changing the cloth as it becomes 
soiled. I^^ext remove all chimneys and shades from the 
chandeliers and gas-burners ; wash clean, dry and polish 
Avith a soft linen towel, and then with chamois-skin, and put 
them into a closet till the room is cleaned. N"ow with a 
cloth, wrung from weak, hot suds, wipe off the brackets and 
chandeliers, and rub dry with chamois-skin. Draw a coarse 
linen thread, double, through the opening in the tip of aU 
the gas-burners to remove any dust that may have settled in 
them while unused. This done, if you have two or three 



FALL CLEANING. 121 

hands at work, the cleaning may be so divided as to be done 
quite expeditiously ; let one wash the windows while another 
cleans the paint. The windows, if long unused, need to be 
well washed in warm suds, into which a little spirits of am- 
monia have been poured, — two teaspoonfuls to half a bucket 
of suds ; then well rinsed in clear water, wiped dry, and pol- 
ished with chamois-skin. This same proportion of suds and 
ammonia will also clean paint very easily, and without injury 
to the hands. It is good for cleaning marble slabs and man- 
tles. The plated door-handles, bell-pulls, etc., come next in 
order for cleaning ; and here, if a piece of oil-cloth is cut to 
slip over each, so that the walls may not be tarnished, the 
hot suds and ammonia will prove very effective. A piece of 
old carpet or drugget shoidd be laid down as you clean win- 
dows, paint, or plated ware, if the carpet is down, and moved 
from one spot to another as you go on. 

Now all is ready to put the last touch to tlie room. 
Wring a clean cloth from some warm, clear water, in which 
a little alum or salt has been dissolved, and wipe hard each 
breadth of the carpet, rubbing straight down the nap. 
Wring out the cloth often, to rinse off all the dust, and 
change the water if it looks very dingy. This brings up the 
nap and gives a new and fresh look to carpets of all kinds ; 
only be sure that the cloth is not so wet as to drip. Leave 
the windows open when the carpet is finished, and shut the 
doors till it is thoroughly dried before bringing in what fur- 
niture was moved out to clean the room. 



122 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XXX. 

FASHIONABLE DRESS. 

"TT'T'E are often asked why we do not speak out plainly, 
V V in the way of counsel and reproof, about the absurd- 
ities of fashionable dress, now so apparent? What good 
would it do 1 Almost every paper has spoken plainly, or 
hinted — the worst kind of speaking, however unmistakable 
— on this subject, and Avhat is the result 1 Week by week 
the fashion-plates are increasingly monstrous, until at last 
we are uncertain whether it is a bona fide fashion plate we are 
looking at or " Punch " and " The Budget of Fun." Neither 
could take greater liberties or more atrociously caricature 
" the human form divine." And, what would be very amus- 
ing if the weakness did not excite so much pity, those who 
urge us to contribute our mite toward a reform, a more 
Christian mode of dress, are themselves marvellous struct- 
ures, — a pile, composed of frizzed, braided, curled, and puffed 
hair, under which a small, delicate face appears ; a dress 
fringed, flounced, puffed, and trailing, with hoops and pan- 
niers protruding like a dromedary's hump ; and all this mis- 
erable deformity borne about on high heels and the tips of 
the toes, the discomfort and pain of such unnatural locomo- 
tion accepted and endured because it is the fashion. Yet 
these fair inquirers appeared wholly unconscious that their 
own disfigurement was a stronger appeal for aid than any 
words could have been. 

Why not begin this reform in your own dress 1 Brush 
your hair smoothly, and give us the satisfaction of once 
more seeing what the head is, as God made it ; take off yards 
of silk, lace, and fringe, and show us your natural, graceful 



FASHIONABLE DRESS. 123 

figure. You who move in what is called fashionable society- 
can do more by such independence than all that can be writ- 
ten. Try one season, and mark the change you would effect. 
" 0, we could n't think of such a thing ! ' As well be out 
of the world as out of fashion,' you know. It would make 
us so very conspicuous by our singularity. We think it 
woidd not be modest to take such a stand. No one person 
can effect the change : it must be simultaneous." 

Ah, had all reformers reasoned so, what woidd now be the 
condition of the civilized world ! But Fashion is a tyrant ; 
and we fear volumes written on the evils which she brings will 
do little good until women have learned to defy her. A few 
in every age have done valiantly in their attempts to dethrone 
her, but she changes so often, and so abruptly and entirely, 
it is difficult to keep track of her. As far back as we can 
search, the whirligig of fashion has been in perpetual mo- 
tion, unceasing in its changes. The advice and admonition 
of age and experience have little influence towards checking 
this long-established tyranny. The old look sadly upon the 
vagaries of the young ; but if they glance back to their own 
early days, would they not recall equal absurdities in the 
fashions of that period, or on a moment's reflection, perhaps, 
even the dress and style to which they still pertinaciously 
adhere may be liable to the same criticism ] 

We vividly remember the look of dissatisfaction on our 
grandmother's face (a dear little woman, nearly eighty years 
old), whose keen black eyes flashed ominously as we came 
before her for inspection, dressed for our first party. We 
stood, at fourteen, a fidl head the taller, but were abashed at 
the dignified air of authority with which she descanted on the 
ridiculousness of our attire. A very narrow skirt, with a 
few gathers in the back, three small pleats on each side, — it 
took but six or seven yards then for a dress, — a full waist, 
with a narrow band round the neck like a baby's slip, and 



124 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

the belt almost under the arms; a large lace "Vandyke," 
or cape, over the shoulders ; the hair combed high on the 
top of the head and tightly tied, and the length twisted into 
a knot or bow, and kept in place by a big tortoise-shell 
comb, the top of it fuU three inches high and six or seven 
inches round ; and this placed back of the hair. Our first 
high-topped comb ! What a wonderful work of art it was 
in our eyes ! And the dress — our first silk — of changeable 
hues, like the silks which are now coming again into fash- 
ion, — how styHsh it did look ! We thought every one must 
recognize its elegance. Yet here was this " httle grandma," 
whose judgment, next to our mother's, was infallible, look- 
ing with disdain upon it, and turning our whole outfit into 
ridicule ! It was heartbreaking ! And for our first party ! 
Fourteen was very young to go to parties in those days, but, 
being tall for our age, we were invited by mistake we pre- 
sume. At the present time young ladies of tliree and four 
send out and receive their cards, and with gloves and fans, 
frizzled hair, and flounced dresses, mimic the affectation and 
absurdities of their elders. We have no sweet, simple 
childhood any longer. 

But how was our revered critic attired % The soft, white 
hair, still quite abundant, was brushed straight over from the 
brow, not tied on top, but rolled as tightly as it could be 
drawn over what was then called a piUow, — now it woidd 
be, we presume, a rat, — and fastened on the top of the 
head by two long silver pins with arrow-heads ; a spotless 
white mull cap with a very high crown and deep frill was 
put on over this pillow and tied with a broad black satin 
ribbon in a bow on top ; a string of gold beads, a square of 
white lace folded over the shoulders and crossed in pleats in 
front, under the dress of heavy black satin ; the waist of 
said dress made long down to the hips, with a point before 
and behind, the skirt not trailed but immensely full ; very 



FASHIONABLE DRESS. 125 

high-heeled slippers ; and on her arm a large black satin bag, 
or reticule, embroidered with white beads, in which was the 
ever-present knitting-work, completed the costume. And 
this queerly dressed little grandmother scoffed at our newer 
style as being the height of absurdity. Her dress appeared 
appropriate to her, because we had never seen her otherwise 
attired ; but with all affectionate deference to her superior 
wisdom, we thought it very ugly, and would have sln'unk in 
disgust from wearing it ovirselves : and doubtless our new 
dress in which we then rejoiced would strike our grand- 
children now as equally undesirable. 

So fashion changes, and words of expostulation are 
wasted. But in this age of improvement, when we turn our 
backs on the things of old while something new is daily 
being developed or invented, the wonder is, that in the 
realms of Fashion we see so little purely original. Like a 
poor horse in a treadmill, she goes the same circuit, and 
about every fifty years she finds the end, and is compelled to 
return and reproduce, with some strange additions, but few 
improvements, the styles our grandmothers and great-grand- 
mothers wore. The high heels, hoops, trains, and panniers of 
to-day are but the renewal of the fashions of a semi-barbarous 
age, which, once buried, shoiild never have been revived. 

Addison, in many of his writings (see particularly papers 
98 and 127 in the " Spectator"), severely criticises the pre- 
vailing fashions of his day. Many of these same deformities 
our better instructed women have for a year or two past fool- 
ishly reproduced. We may not quote his words, because the 
homely language of that period would shock our greater 
refinement, (although if it could be arranged for opera or 
theatre, his wholesome counsels might be listened to in public 
without a blush !). 

There is much to be said, aside from the absurdity of the 
style, and its destruction of all grace and beauty, of the 



126 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

great extravagance which must attend the present fashions, 
breaking up many homes and alienating true love ; and the 
permanent injury done to health, subjecting its devotees to 
long years, perhaps, of discomfort and lingering sufferings 
or an early grave. 



XXXI. 

LESSONS BY THE WAYSIDE. 

LOVE lightens labor, and crowns Care with rosy gar- 
lands which beautify her rugged and repeUant fea- 
tures. But when those whose presence makes labor easy are 
absent, Care is more likely to become a hard taskmaster. Our 
house being thus left unto us desolate, for a few days, we 
rebel, and have run away. 

Seated all alone in one of those cozy little rooms in the 
" palace-cars," on the banks of the Hudson, we will try for 
once how it feels to be free from care, and give ourselves up 
to the fuU enjoyment of the position. How beautiful is the 
scenery through which we are passing ! Each one thinks his 
own native land, his own mountains and rivers, the finest in 
the world. This feeling often grows into a ludicrous weak- 
ness ; but we are confident that our noble Hudson must be 
acknowledged by aU as ranking among the first. 

" Where will you find in foreign land 
So sweet a spot, so bold a strand ? " 

In spring-time, when every bush and tree is tipped with 

delicate green, from the banks of the river to the highest 

point that overlooks it, we call it more lovely than at any other 

season of the year. But in summer, when the grass is just 

ready for the scythe, and blossoms of fruit hang from every 

bough, we say this surpasses the spring. In the early fall. 



LESSONS BY THE WAYSIDE. 127 

the orchards scattered all along the river-side, laden with the 
ripening fruit, in each variety of green, red, gold, or russet, 
and the woods on either side brilliant with every shade of 
color, add another charm to the wondrous beauty of the 
scenery. And now, in this later autumn, as we see the 

" Leaves around us falling, 
Dry and withered, to the ground," — 

the lights and shadows on the mountains, the golden hues 
exchanged for deeper russet, the dark red of the Ampelopsis 
mingling with the rich color of the evergreens that cover 
the banks, — all caught by the flashing river, and thrown 
back in broken and fantastic reflection, — call for increasing 
admiration ; and midwinter, when the ground is white with 
snow, and the trees are strung with diamonds, will only fur- 
nish stronger cords to hold us steadfast to our allegiance. 
There is not " half a kiss to choose" between the seasons on 
the banks of our glorious Hudson. We love it always and 
in all its varied changes. 

And this is rest for the weary ! How beautifully quiet 
the pretty villages, nested in among the mountains or scat- 
tered along the banks, appear ! Is it possible that sickness 
or sorrow, heartaches or envyings, fierce passions or corroding 
cares, can find a harbor near this tranquil river 1 It must be 
so, no doubt ; but as Ave fly quickly past, and cannot see it, 
what is it all to us 1 Why trouble ourselves with the thought 
of sorrows which we can neither alleviate nor prevent 1 

Ah ! we may leave what we call our cares far behind ; but 
we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that sin, and therefore 
sorrow, is all about us, as truly in the restful solitude of 
the little niche we for a few hours occupy, as in the weary 
round of busy life. Out of sight, but almost within reach 
of our hand, there is a sick child. We hear its feeble cry, 
and think, from the sound, it must be quite young, and 
nearly worn out with suffering. The mother, no doubt, ten- 



128 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

clerly loves her child, yet long days of watching and sleepless 
nights have taxed her strength to the utmost, and exhausted 
her patience. Sharp and irritable words are spoken, and as 
we hear the little one, through the slight partition that sep- 
arates us, turn restlessly from side to side, unable to hnd an 
easy spot, yet constantly longing for change, we knoAv that it 
is not gently placed on a cooler pillow, or taken to the 
mother's arms, — gathered to her bosom, and soothed with 
loving words. But instead we hear, " dear ! what a tor- 
ment ! I am tired to death ! Can't you lie stiU one minute 1 " 
How these tones make our heart quiver ! ]^o doubt she is 
very weary, and perhaps full of pain herself ; but with each 
peevish, complaining word uttered over that frail little blos- 
som, she is planting 

" Thorns, not roses, for her reaping, by and by." 
If she knew that in a few days, perhaps, her babe would be 
forever hid from her eyes, woidd not the remaining hours of 
its short life be soothed, regardless of her own pain, by the 
tenderest love, and each word soft and sweet as the notes of 
the cushat-dove ! And the father, in full health and vigor, 
why does he not relieve the weary, overtasked mother] 
Why does he not give her an hour's rest, while the little one 
finds in his strong arms a grateful change 1 for there is no 
cradle so soft and soothing to a babe, sick or well, as a lov- 
ing father's arms. Instead of bearing this yoke with his 
wife, we hear cross, ungentlemanly, unsympathetic words of 
complaint addressed to her, and harsh and peevish commands 
to the baby. We long to step across tlie narrow passage that 
divides us, and, taking the little one into our own arms, 
kindly tell the parents what seeds they are solving ; to say 
to them, " If your child dies, each word will rise up in 
remembrance against you, filling your hearts with anguish. 
If it lives, you are sowing poisonous weeds, which will 
cause you lifelong sorrow. The child Avill imitate your ex- 



LESSONS BY THE WAYSIDE. 129 

ample, practise the lessons it is this day so early learning, 
and teach you how ' the sins of the parents may be visited 
upon the children.' Your own sins and failings will rise 
up and condemn you through your children." Good-breed- 
ing and etiquette will not permit us to go to them with 
such warning ; yet that this lesson may profit some one, we 
send it to the friends for whom we write, — the young 
home-makers as well as the young housekeepers. In thus 
shaping your children's future, we cannot but think that the 
father will be as richly blessed for instilling correct principles, 
or as surely condemned for wrong training and example, as 
the mother. We know this is treason and heresy, if judged 
by the prevailing idea that the mother, far more than the 
father, is responsible for the principles and character with 
which the child takes its place among men and women. 

We think this bad doctrine. The parents have an equal 
share in their offspring, and should not hold a divided re- 
sponsibility. 

The nursing and care in the main is doubtless the mother's 
office ; but in extreme cases it should be borne together. 
Being naturally more with the child in early infancy, of 
course the mother has a closer intimacy. But in a well- 
organized, loving family, you will note that while the love is 
given to both parents alike, when questions of weight arise, 
even in early years, the child turns to the father for the final 
word which shall be infallible. The mother's gentler, ten- 
derer tone settles every-day questions, but there is strength 
and authority in the father's voice from which they are not 
often tempted to appeal, and a good wife and mother recog- 
nizes this state. It is a sad house when the hearts of mother 
and children cannot, with love and pride, accept this as the 
natural and legitimate ride of home government and educa- 
tion. Even if the mother does not, in her own judgment, 
accept the father's decision with the simple faith with which 
6* I 



130 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

the cliild receives it, it is no evidence of tame submission if 
she pleasantly reserves her reasons till they are alone. All 
argument should be avoided between the parents before the 
children on matters connected with the children's interest. 
If appealed to, let the reply be simply, " Father knows best," 
or, " Do as father says." By this you strengthen your hus- 
band's hands, and nowise compromise your own conscience 
or influence. Then when opportunity offers compare your 
views and give your reasons for dissent, in all truth and 
gentleness. 



XXXII. 

PAULINE PRY. 

"T"T'T"E come this week to spy out the land, — to roam 
V V "up stairs, down stairs, and in the lady's chamber " ; 
to creep into all by and forbidden places ; to look into the 
bedrooms, ransack the wardrobes, peep into the drawers, it 
may be ; overhaul trunks and boxes, perhaps ; in short, to 
take all manner of liberty and find fault to our heart's con- 
tent. 

jSTow we slip, unseen, into the guest-chamber. It is very 
pleasant and inviting ; but we don't think the bed is made 
up very neatly. There are " humps " in the mattress. It 
has not been turned over after using, and well beaten and 
brought to a good square surface. The sheets and blankets 
are not put on smoothly ; the fine, Marseilles spread is put 
on unevenly, giving a very untidy appearance to the bed, and 
bringing so large a proportion of the bedclothes on one side, 
so as to render it difficult to turn and press them doAvn prop- 
erly between the mattress and side-rail, and of course you 
cannot, under such circumstances, give a square, regular 



PAULINE PRY, 131 

shape to the bed. A poorly made bed spoils the appear- 
ance of the room, however elegant the rest of the furnishing 
may be. 

Pretty sheet and pillow tidies are of great assistance in 
giving a fresh, cheerful air to a bedroom. If sheets and 
pillow slips are neatly tucked and nicely ironed, the bed will 
look very inviting at lirst, if well made ; but after it has been 
once used, the wrinkled, tumbled sheets and pillows are not a 
pleasant sight, and one feels well repaid for the little trouble 
of providing tidies, however simple ; ruffled and embroidered, 
for the spare chamber if you please, but a part of a fine old 
linen sheet, with broad hems and narrow tucks, starched and 
well ironed, gives a very neat finish to the family bedrooms, 
and with' careful folding when taken off at night will not 
need to be done up for some weeks. 

This elegant bureau is all right, as far as it is furnished ; 
but the guest-chamber should be provided with all the lit- 
tle comforts and conveniences which a lady thinks necessary 
in her own room. A handsome mat or tidy over the mar- 
ble top, and little mats on each side for cologne-bottle and 
watch- stand, or match-box and jewel-case, and a pretty 
cushion, will add much to the appearance of this bureau ; 
or if nothing more, a clean damask towel spread over it is, if 
not a necessity, at least a great safeguard against stains on 
the marble, and a protection from the disagreeable chill that 
creeps over one when resting the hand or arm on the cold 
marble. 

A good comb and brush, free from the slightest suspicion 
of dirt, a boot-buttoner, and a paper of pins, ought to be 
on the bureau or in the drawer. A friend often remains 
over night unexpectedly, and, of course not coming pro- 
vided for the detention, will find these little attentions and 
conveniences a great comfort, and duly appreciate your kind 
and thoughtful care. 



132 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEICEEPERS. 

A little basket of willow or perforated card, embroidered 
with some neat and fanciful design, or a bead or muslin 
bag, is a great convenience mucli needed to be hung by the 
side of the bureau or under the gas, to hold the hair from 
comb or brush, burnt matches, bits of thread or paper. 
Some such receptacle for loose bits or litter, no matter how 
simple, shoidd be near every bureau, which the chambermaid 
must empty every morning. A cuspidor, or wide-mouthed 
vase, upon the floor, is more elegant than a scrap-basket, but 
much more expensive. 

A curtain of white barred muslin or Knen is needed back 
of the washstand, that the water, in washing, may not soil 
the paper or paint. A nail-brush is very convenient, we 
think a real necessity, for every bedroom. Get open, up- 
right brush- holders, rather than the long flat ones with a 
cover, for, by standing the tooth and nail brushes in the 
upright dish they drain and soon dry ; but if laid down and 
covered they are never dry, and in warm weather soon be- 
come quite off"ensively musty. 

A good sponge on the washstand and a clean doily hung 
up -with the towels should be considered as indispensable in 
any well- furnished spare room as for those in daily use. 

Of course the bureau drawers and wardrobe in this room 
will be left as nearly unoccupied as possible ; so we will not 
stop to open them, but pass into other rooms. 

"What can be the matter in this young lady's chamber % 
As we draw near the bureau, we perceive a most unpleasant 
smell. We must take the liberty of opening this drawer. 
Whew ! the first breath reveals the mystery. 

The brush has been wet to brush the hair, and then 
without drying shut from the air in the drawer. There is 
no smell so sickening ! It pervades the whole bureau. I^o 
perfume can overcome it ; and by using the brush, damp and 
uncleansed day after day, the odor is carried wherever this 



PAULINE PRY. 133 

careless person goes. "We have sat by people in church who 
have used such a brush, and could hardly remain during the 
service. The cause is unmistakable and cannot be con- 
cealed. If no other means can destroy this bad habit, we 
would recommend that any one so thoughtless shoidd read 
an article we saw not long since in " Harper's Bazar " on the 
vegetable growth, in brush, comb, hair, and scalp, produced 
by wetting the brush or hair, and leaving them undried or 
uncleansed. We think once reading that description would 
be sufficient cure. 

The hair-brush should be combed free from hair or dan- 
druff every time it is used, and laid by an open window till 
well aired and dried, if ladies will persist in wetting the 
hair or brush. A brisk movement of a dry brush through 
the hair will soon create a fine lustre on the hair, whereas 
wetting diminishes the gloss so beautiful in well-kept hair ; 
but we forget that that is an old-fashioned idea. The pro- 
gress of 'art and elegance teaches that a wilderness of fuzzy, 
frizzled hair is now the crowning beauty. Tastes differ, 
but no change in style or fashion will object, we hope, to a 
clean, sweet brush ; and to secure that it must once a week, 
at least, be well washed in warm soapsuds, in which a little 
soda has been dissolved. Soda is better than ammonia, 
as it cleanses without stimulating the vegetable groxvth spo- 
ken of in the " Bazar," to which we just referred. Comb the 
brush while washing, that the suds may penetrate to the 
roots of the bristles, and cleanse every part ; then rinse in 
warm water, rub dry as you can, and put in the window, or 
by the fire if the weather is damp, to dry. This care should 
n'jt be neglected by any one who makes any pretension to 
neatness. 

The bureau drawers in this room are not in good order. 
You Avill lose much time, and we think a good deal of self- 
respect, when next you need a handkerchief or stockings, 



134 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

for everything here seems to have been stirred up by a whirl- 
wind or a sleep-walker. It will require some skill and 
more patience than you can spare to separate this wretched 
tangle. 

The pipes in the wash-basin and bath-room are slimy and 
foul, indicative of neglect. They should be well washed 
every morning, and once a week a pail of boiling suds, with 
a spoonful or two of soda or potash, must be poured in, to 
eat away all impurities, and sweeten the pipes. In passing, 
let us say this care is more especially necessary in the kitchen 
sinks. They require a stronger suds, and more soda or lye, 
and more attention, to eat out all the grease that avUI accu- 
mulate in washing dishes. 

The discoloration around the beU-pull, door-knobs, etc., 
shows that a careless girl has not protected the wall or paint 
while cleaning them, and the mistress has not kept her eyes 
open. A bit of oil-cloth, with a hole in the center, to slip 
over the knobs or bell-pulls while rubbing, would have saved 
this defacement of paint and paper. And the finger-marks 
on the doors also teU a sad story of neglect. They need to 
be washed off once a week — twice, if little fingers are 
about — with a soft flannel, wrung out of hot suds. 

In the sitting-room, the mantel over the grate has not 
been washed every morning when the fire is lighted in the 
grate. It should be. See ! the gas and smoke from coal 
or kindlings have turned the white marble quite yeUow. 
Wash it in hot suds, strong with ammonia, to remove the 
spots, and then use a clean brush and hot suds every morn- 
ing, and you will save much time, and be well rewarded with 
an unspotted mantel. 

"We can't pry about any longer, but there is no knowing 
when we may be tempted again to m(3ddle with our friends' 
housekeeping. 



BUY YOUK CAGE BEFORE YOU CATCH YOUR BIRD. 135 

XXXIII. 

BUY YOUR CAGE BEFORE YOU CATCH YOUR BIRD. 

A YOUNG lady writes that this old adage is often re- 
peated to her " in connection with grave warnings 
against early engagements and early marriages," and asks for 
our opinion and advice. 

This old proverb sounds very wise, and if taken literally 
may, for aught we know, be correct doctrine ; but when used 
as a warning, in the connection which our friend suggests, 
we don't more than half believe in it. We are no advo- 
cate for very long engagements or unreasonably early mar- 
riages ; but we do believe that the happiest marriages are 
of those between whom the love was early plighted, and 
that close observation wiU prove that such are the most likely 
to stand the test of time, and pass through the many rough 
and hazardous paths of married life with the most cheerful 
fortitude. Those who have delayed marriage till their habits 
have become too firmly established to yield kindly to an- 
other's wishes or pecuharities have not, we think, so sure a 
prospect of a pleasant and harmonious life. We would 
sooner trust an early union to carry the wedded pair down 
to a peaceful old age, not only without losing the love that 
first united them, but with the firm hope that it would grow 
brighter and brighter until that perfect day when both, hav- 
ing passed over the river, shall stand with clearer vision and 
purified affection before the throne of God. 

Wlien school-days are over and the young man enters upon 
his chosen occupation, and the maiden leaves her school-room 
to return to her mother's care, then we believe that a be- 
trothal formed with pure love for the basis is a great safe- 



136 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

guard. It protects the lover from many temptations by 
which young men away from home are beset, especially in 
the city. They have little society save such transient com- 
panions as may cross their path, and who will, perhaps, seek 
to entice them to find pleasure in low and unrefined, if not 
in really impure and sinful courses. In the evening, after 
the day's work is ended, time hangs heavy on their hands, 
they crave something, they know not what, and are easily 
entrapped. 

Now, while a true love will teach a man to turn from such 
pleasures in disgust, it will also save the maiden any desire to 
indulge in the flirtations and coquetries with which gay and 
fashionable society tempts young and unguarded girls to de- 
grade themselves. An engagement does not always prevent 
this, we are sorry to say, but pure love wUl prove an unfail- 
ing protection. 

IsTeither do we believe an engagement should be protracted 
after the lover has entered upon his business or profession, 
until he. has accumulated sufficient wealth to keep his bird 
in a golden cage. 

Begin real life together. That is the true way, aU the 
sweeter and happier if you begin small. The less style and 
display there is, the more time each will have to study the 
home character of the one they have accepted as a companion 
for life, and the better opportunity to learn easily how to 
bear and forbear, to tone down such peculiarities as are 
not conducive to mutual confidence and harmony. In all 
characters there will be such peculiarities, — it is quite right 
there should be, — but by carrying the same gentleness and 
courtesy into domestic life which was so easily and naturally 
given in the days of courtship, yielding a little, giving up one 
to the other, the early wedded become assimilated, and find 
in their union an ever-increasing joy, which a later marriage, 
when the habits become fixed and unyielding, seldom realizes. 



BUY YOUR CAGE BEFORE YOU CATCH YOUR BIRD. 137 

" But to begin life in a small way, with limited means, 
subjects one to much drudgery and many deprivations ; be- 
sides, we lose caste. Those who knew us in our father's 
house, surrounded with comfort and luxury, would scarcely 
deign to notice us if found in circumstances so at variance 
with our parents' mode of Ufe." 

Such friends are scarcely worth the securing. You have 
outgrown babyhood and childhood, and, having entered upon 
man's and woman's estate, surely do not expect to be always 
cradled in your parents' arms ; but if you are of any worth 
you should cheerfully accept life as you find it. " Its rough 
ascents or flowing slopes," if trod together and in love, will 
insure genuine happiness, and we often think one stores up 
quite as much real pleasure while passing through the 
rough places as when walking among the flowers. We 
know that the retrospection is often a source of unfading 
enjoyment. 

Many, we are aware, find great delight in selecting the 
house that is to be their home, and furnishing it as elabo- 
rately and tavStefuUy as their means will permit, perhaps even 
beyond a safe limit, and then surprising the bride by usher- 
ing her into this unexpected establishment. The surprise is 
doubtless effected, but although the annoyance may be con- 
cealed, in nine cases out of ten we venture to say it is keenly 
felt. When possible, both should act together in selecting 
the house, or it may be " rooms," where is to be their home, 
and the taste and judgment of both be consulted in selecting 
the furniture which they expect to have before their eyes 
daily. In examining and counseling together freqixently, 
they modify each other's tastes, and in the end are far better 
satisfied than if either had done the work alone. 

The money for furnishing a house is often provided as a 
part of the bride's outfit, and of course, if she chooses so to 
consider the matter, it is her right to select the furniture, 



138 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

without consulting another's taste or wishes. But the older 
we grow the more we are satisfied that my rights should be 
erased from the matrimonial dictionary, and our rights sub- 
stituted. 



XXXIV. 

CARE IN SELECTING A HOUSE. 

CHOOSING a house or tenement is one of the cares that 
often devolves upon the wife, and demands great skill, 
good judgment, and sound common-sense, because there are 
so many things to be taken into consideration. We have 
been favored with a book pubhshed in London entitled " The 
Best of Every tiling." We have not yet so thoroughly exam- 
ined its contents as to be able to judge if it warrants that 
title, but have been much pleased with some " Hints on 
choosing, buying, or building a House," and think our read- 
ers will be better pleased with some extracts from that chap- 
ter than with anything we could furnish : — 

" Select a cheerful, healthy locality, and be sure the rent, 
including taxes, etc., does not exceed one sixth of your in- 
come. Do not choose a neighborhood merely because it is 
fashionable, and carefully avoid occupying a dwelling in a 
neighborhood of doubtful reputation. 

" Be sure that the house is dry, with convenient sewerage 
and plenty of water. A southern or western aspect is to be 
preferred. Should the house be infested with vermin, avoid 
it. See that windows and doors are well secured, that there 
are proper means of ventilation, and that the chimneys do 
not smoke, 

"Let aU needful repairs be made by the landlord before 
the completion of your agreement, otherwise you will proha- 



CARE IN SELECTING A HOUSE. 139 

bly be required to execute them at your own expense. Do 
not deal with a landlord commonly reputed to be disobliging, 
greedy, or litigious. In every case have a lease properly 
drawn out and stamped. 

" Avoid the neighborhood of a sluggish stream, a mill- 
dam, or fresh-water lake. The penalties are rheumatism, 
ague, impaired eyesight, loss of appetite, asthma, and many 
other ailments. Choose a house away from the vicinity of 
tan-yards and tallow, soap, and chemical works, old and 
crowded burying-grounds, or slaughter-houses. A low situa- 
tion is perilous, especially during the prevalence of epi- 
demics. 

" Never lease a house in a narrow street if you can help it, 
unless the back premises are open and extensive. Houses 
built with sea-sand will in the winter months discharge 
moisture and be unhealthy. A house with two entrances is 
more healthy than with only one. Before closing your bargain, 
try to learn something of the house from a former occupant. 

" If you wish to purchase instead of leasing, do not trust 
to appearances or rely on your own judgment ; but when you 
have found a house likely to suit your family and your purse, 
employ a surveyor to inspect every portion of it. He Avill 
examine the foundations, the state of the sewerage, and the 
character of the materials which form the walls, the joints, 
flooring, and other wood-work. He will be able to detect 
if soft bricks have been used, by finding traces of dampness 
at the bottom of the walls. Let a lawyer examine all papers 
necessary to secure a full possession. 

"Beware of rashly purchasing fixtures, such as window- 
blinds or curtains, hall carpets, or kitchen furniture ; new 
articles may be found in the end more economical. 

" Make an effort to pay the whole of the purchase-money. 
A bond on your house may endanger your credit and affect 
your comfort. 



140 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

" If instead of buying a house, you wish to build, select 
your locality ; but before completing the arrangements, ascer- 
tain the precise nature of the soil. In a gravelly soil you 
will readily secure good foundations ; but if you find clay, 
or moist earth, be cautious. You may, indeed, procure ^n 
artificial foundation by laying a bed of concrete ; but this 
will be attended with considerable expense. Consult an 
architect ; he will make a plan for your approval, and pre- 
pare working plans, and a specification. If the house is to 
be built of brick, be careful to examine the quality of the 
bricks, and also of the mortar. Personally inspect the 
plumber's work, which, if inferior, will expose you to end- 
less expense afterwards. 

" Do not aUow zinc to be used either as gutters or water- 
pipes ; it wastes under exposure. 

" "When a new house passes out of the hands of the car- 
penters, the painters and paper-hangers take their place. In 
selecting your paper-hangings, keep in view these considera- 
tions. If the ceiling is low, oak paper, or any dark paper, 
will make it apparently lower still ; or if a room be defec- 
tively lighted, a dark shade aggravates the evil. Papers of 
large designs are unsuited for a small room, making it look 
smaller ; and, generally, papers with a variety of colors and 
showy patterns are inconsistent with elegance. Striped pa- 
pers are better adapted for rooms with low ceilings. When 
you. have pictures to hang on the walls, floral devices in the 
paper are particularly unsuitable. Paper of a uniform color, 
such as light or dark green, is admirably adapted for pic- 
tures. The paint of doors and windows should harmonize 
with the paper-hangings.^^ 



VISITING FOK ONE'S OWN CONVENIENCE. 141 

XXXV. 

VISITING FOR ONE'S OWN CONVENIENCE. 

THEEE are very few housekeepers in cities or large 
towns who wiU not, at the first glance, understand pre- 
cisely what this means ; and, however many may have been 
tempted to indulge in this style of visiting, and perhaps 
often yielded to the temptation, there will be none found, 
we venture to say, who will not heartily protest against it, 
when practised upon themselves. 

We have before us a letter from a lady on this subject, 
and think we cannot do better than to transcribe part of it 
for the benefit of our young friends, as it presents the sub- 
ject in a clear and very forcible manner : — 

" Do not, by any means, imagine that I would say a word 
against friendly visits, for mutual enjoyment and the culti- 
vation of true friendshiiJ. I gladly welcome to my house all 
who come to see me, and delight to do them honor in every 
way hospitality can suggest. My friends are sure of a cor- 
dial welcome at all times, and I never make a visit I do not 
wish returned. So much by way of parenthesis. 

" ^ow for a statement of grievances. It is my misfortune 
(or fortune) to have been brought up in a rural town, about 
thirty miles from the city where I have resided since my 
marriage, five years ago. I am a young housekeeper, not yet 
of sufficient experience to take matters as easily as older and 
more experienced matrons can, and therefore am more easily 
disturbed by untoward events. 

" The people living in my native town and thereabouts, 
who are in the least acquainted with me or my husband, find 
it vastly convenient, when they come to the city, once or 



142 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

twice a year, or oftener, to shop, do errands of various kinds, 
or attend conventions, — of which we have legions, ■ — to come 
directly to my house, with all the freedom of brothers and 
sisters, and stay till their mission to the city, whatever it may 
be, is accomplished, with no thought or inquiry of how it 
may conflict with my plans and convenience, or whether my 
health is sufficient to enable me to bear the addition to my 
work. And still worse, they never give any notice of their 
coming ; but arrive, perhaps, in the noon train, just as I am 
dishing up dinner for my small family, with their strong 
country appetites, whetted by their morning ride, and expect 
a good dinner and a hearty welcome. If it were only one 
or two who take such liberties, I would not mind it ; but as 
one after another makes my house their hotel, it becomes a 
weariness to the flesh. JSTor is this all. The hardest and 
most annoying of all is to have a woman come bringing a 
young child, and remain till she has made her purchases for 
a large family. This of course takes two or more days. 
The child is left in my care, while the mother is only in 
the house at meal-times. The child is home-sick, lonely, 
and fretful, and completely wears me out, mentally and 
bodily ; and I have no means of redress. When the mother 
leaves, she says, ' 'Now come and make me a visit,' well 
knowing that I never will, 

" I might speak of the annoyance of rising two hours ear- 
lier than usual to get breakfast in season for an early morn- 
ing train ; but I forbear, hoping you will help those who 
suff"er from this cruel and heartless practice." 

This victim of a selfish and heartless custom has so well 
portrayed the annoyances that spring naturally from it, that 
few words of ours are needed. But, in justice to the writer, 
we must assure our readers that this is no fancy sketch ; the 
half of what the landladies of these gratuitous hotels are 
called upon — no, compelled — to endure has not been told. 



VISITING FOR ONE'S OWN CONVENIENCE. 143 

Happy, if when sick, witliout help, or unable to afford to 
keep any, they do not find it necessary to furnish two or 
three extra meals, at different parts of the day, after the 
family have been fed, the table and dishes all cleansed, and 
the weary provider has just sat down to that large basket of 
long-delayed mending. Long delayed ! And why ? Be- 
cause the time and strength which might have been given to 
that work have been frittered away for those who have no 
legitimate claim upon either, and who, perphaps, taking notes 
of everything which their presence compels the lady of the 
house to neglect, go away and requite her hospitality by criti- 
cising her housekeeping and remarking upon her inefficiency ! 
Or it may be, these long-suffering ladies are rung up at mid- 
night to receive unscrupidous and untimely guests ; or, in- 
stead of one child to look after, they are expected to act as 
nurse to three or four. We have tried and known it all, 
and confess we don't like it. 

Aside from the fatigue and inconvenience, the pecuniary 
tax is often much heavier than the poor victim can afford to 
pay. We think the meanest kind of pilfering is that prac- 
tised by self-constituted guests. We Avould ride, in the 
darkest night, over the roughest corduroy roads ever seen at 
the West in her earliest days, until we found a log-tavern, on 
the edge of a " clearing," with no private room, no eatable 
food, and a bed already fully inhabited, before we would 
thxis trespass on any one upon whom we had not strong 
claims of hearty love or relationship, and especially with- 
out warning. And one who has ever tried this alterna- 
tive, will acknowledge that we could not well express our 
abhorrence of the practice of " visiting for one's own con- 
venience" more forcibly. 

Look at it on the score of the host's convenience. Even 
with an abundant income, an ample supply of well-trained 
servants, every housekeeper knows that one is liable to have 



144 MOTHEKLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

on the. table what may be sufficient for " the family," — the 
last of the bread, and only enough meat. The new bread 
may be almost ready for the oven, but not for the table. 
The butcher may have been delayed, or forgotten your order, 
and you have no more supplies on hand. Who does not 
know the anxiety and annoyance of " improvising " a dinner 
for unexpected guests, when the larder is not well filled'? 
(By the way, dear young housekeeper, keep watch that you 
are not often caught with short " rations.") Then, you often 
have engagements that demand your attention immediately 
after you have finished your dinner, and failing to meet such 
engagements may cause you much trouble, and subject you to 
very great annoyance. And for whom must you allow all 
these arrangements, connected with your own or your family's 
interests, to be deranged 1 For almost a stranger, — a mere 
passing acquaintance, in nowise congenial, who finds your 
house more pleasant and convenient, and certainly more 
econo7}iical, than a public hotel. There are mischievous, 
roguish boys in most families, who have a very emphatic 
nomenclature of their own by which they would designate 
such liberties ; but as we very gravely rebuke all " slang " 
phrases in our own family, we dare not venture to use their 
terms, however appropriate, and can simply say, that it is 
the coolest and most unpardonable kind of unwarrantable 
familiarity. 

There is another trouble connected with convenient and 
economical visiting, which our friend has not noticed. We 
trust she has never experienced it. We have, many times ; 
and in former years, with young children to care for, it was 
the hardest to bear of all the vexations caused by these un- 
welcome guests. We refer to the disturbance and dissatis- 
faction which such unexpected increase of labor causes 
among our servants. If these visits are not like those of the 
angels, " few and far between," (and such hotels, once found, 



VISITING FOR one's OWN CONVENIENCE. 145 

are not often left quiet,) your " help " will be very likely to 
appear before you, carpet-bag in hand, saying, " Please, mem, 
I must leave you ; I did not hire out to a boarding-house ." 
Ah, what blessed independence ! They can give notice to 
leave, but you cannot. You cannot quit your post, but 
must stay by, and silently endure. So custom ordains. 
But if custom enacts unjust laws, lays upon weary shoul- 
ders heavy burdens most grievous to be borne, is not a re- 
volt justifiable '1 We think it is, and, in mercy to patient 
workers, the sooner it begins and the more unflinchingly it 
is sustained the better. 

When those who have no claim upon your time or your 
affections take such liberties, besieging you in your home, 
we think it not at all reprehensible or discourteous to say, 
frankly, with unmistakable plainness, that it is inconvenient 
or quite impossible for you to accommodate or entertain 
them. Be as kind and gentle as you can, but be firm. 
They have no claim upon you ; let it be well understood 
that you recognize -none, and mean to act accordingly. If 
you accept the intrusion, without protest, you will but rivet 
your bonds ; and while you find them growing stronger and 
more galling every year, you will also find that your power 
to resist and break the chains becomes weaker. Your sub- 
mission to such imposition and oppression will be well noised 
abroad, and you Avill find yourself at the mercy of many 
a chance customer. 

To such as come to you in love and for love's sake, let 
your doors swing wide open. Intercourse between friends 
and relatives is another and very different thing. It is giv- 
ing and receiving, and the pleasure makes the labor light. 
But to all who use your house for their own selfish con- 
venience, lock the door and drop the key in your pocket. 



146 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPEES. 

XXXVI. 

WILL THEY BOAED, OR KEEP HOUSE 1 

"T'VT'E tliiiilv it is considered allowable to criticise and 
V V gossip about household matters generally, so that 
we don't intrench on anybody in particular. But to avoid 
meddling was a doctrine so thoroughly inculcated in our 
youth, that in our talk with young housekeepers we have 
found ourselves shrinking from touching upon many little mis- 
takes that need rectifying, or topics that will bear discussion, 
forgetting that we are really not prying into private family 
matters. Yet, thanks to many letters of inquiry from un- 
known friends, which give us license and courage to take 
up prevailing modes or ideas and suggest what we think a 
better way, we shall go on, and perhaps be considered a 
meddler after all ! 

"When young people marry, the first question asked is, 
" "Will they board, or keep house ] " And the reasons for or 
against keeping house show a very great variety of opinions. 
We hear this question so often, and see, with pain, how 
poorly prepared, through the reprehensible indulgence of their 
mothers, many of the young ladies of the present day are for 
the performance or superintendence of home cares and duties, 
that, having waited for some explicit inquiries on the subject, 
we now propose to embody, in an imaginary letter, some of 
the anxieties and distress which this same indulgence stores 
up for the tenderly reared daughters. We will suppose. that 
one of these young ladies writes us as follows : — 

" I know that you generally advise yoimg people to go to 
housekeeping, instead of boarding. That may be the best 
way for most, and of late I am inclined to think it is ; but I 



WILL THEY BOARD, OR KEEP HOUSE] 147 

am peculiarly situated. I wonder if you can understand how 
very hard it must be, how almost impossible, for a young lady 
who has lived twenty years without any cares, who has 
always seen an abundance of everything, — never knowing 
or thinking that economy was or could be necessary, — to 
undertake the care of a house, under circumstances which 
will make it desirable that the work, if not done by her own 
hands, should be wholly under her constant supervision. 
What sort of a housekeeper would you expect her to make 'i 
I have just learned that my parents are not able, now, to 
start me in life as elegantly as I have always been brought 
up to expect. In a few weeks I shall be united to one, not 
rich, but I think well worthy of any sacrifice or hardsliip. 
He earnestly desires me to consent to begin housekeeping as 
soon as we are married. I don't want to, because I am sure 
boarding will be wiser and safer than my unskillfid. house- 
keeping. But my friend says, if I will consent, he will be 
patient with my short-comings and mistakes, and will work 
enough harder to make up for all I waste while learning. 
Poor fellow ! he little dreams what an ignoramus he is about 
to risk his comfort and perhaps happiness with. Why, I 
know absolutely nothing of what I am just beginning to 
feel is of the greatest importance, if we would secure a happy 
union. To be sure, I can sing and dance well, so partial 
friends say. I paint with skill and accuracy sufficient at 
least to amuse myself and while away such time as would 
otherwise drag heavily during a rainy day, and am quite * 
skillful with my needle when I use it for fancy work ; but 
when it comes to useful, necessary work, I am as helpless and 
useless as a child. Ah, if my dear parents had lavished half 
the money to teach me household mysteries that was expended 
to make me thoroughly accomplished, in the fashionable sense 
of that term, how happy I should now be and how bright 
the future would appear ! I have good health, and, if I only 



148 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

knew how to do anything, would shrink from no hardship ; 
hut I honestly know nothing useful. And this foolish lover 
of mine talks about being patient with my mistakes until I 
learn to keep house ! Alas, it Avill take years to teach me 
so that I can see my way through this fog and tangle of igno- 
rance. I shall be an old woman, bent and gray, before I 
understand the first principles of household economy. Will 
he bear with me through all the vexatious blunders I shall 
make while learning; and be patient if, after years of trial, 
he finds I am but an awkward and unskillful worker stiU 1 " 

Yes, if this young man is worthy of your love, he will value 
the efforts you make, and sympathize with you when you find 
the results unsatisfactory. If he would have your praise- 
worthy struggles to make the home attractive successful, he 
must not look back to the " leeks and onions of Egypt," but 
accept the journey through the wilderness with cheerfulness, 
and be lovingly grateful if the " manna " falls at first but 
seldom. Many a young, inexperienced wife has had all her 
efforts paralyzed, because her husband was so often murmur- 
ing about his mother's bread and pies and gingerbread. That 
is cruel and unmanly. 

IS; ow, in the first place, let us say to every young couple, 
Go to houseTceeping by all means. However awkward or un- 
skillful you may be, or however small and simple must be 
your habitation, do not let the first years of married life be 
passed in a boarding-house. It is no place to learn each 
other's character, to become accustomed to the peculiarities 
that belong to every one ; it is no place to accept as home. 

If you are not able to employ servants while you two, who 
have just been made one, are the only occujDants of your new 
home, happy are ye. In this early stage of married life, to 
venture on boarding, or risk the tyranny of servants, is to 
deprive yourselves of the sweetest experiences of a true home. 
ISTo matter how heavy or how light your purse may be, if you 



WILL THEY BOARD, OR KEEP HOUSE] 149 

are wise, commence small. If young people assume the cares 

of a large mansion, and with it, of necessity, the supervision 

of a number of servants, they will soon become disheartened, 

and vote housekeeping wretched work. But in a small house, 

before " olive plants " cluster around to tell you that 

" The cottage is too small, 
And the table wanteth space," 

you become accustomed to the care, and so well versed in all 
the minutest detads of home labor, that you will scarcely feel 
the additional tax on your energies, either of the olive 
branches or a larger house, and the additional care of ser- 
vants, which will, of necessity, come with a more imposing 
residence. 

Then, as to the shrinking from venturing into the new and 
untried household domains, which young ladies so naturally 
feel who know absolutely nothing but the " accomplish- 
ments " taught in schools, we would say, for your encourage- 
ment, that the road to such knowledge as will enable you to 
form some correct idea of the work which lies before you is 
not so long or so difficult as your fears have led you to im- 
agine. With a willing heart, with hands made quick and 
skillful by love, the way will soon become easy and pleasant. 
If possible, employ much of the few last weeks before your 
marriage in making yourself familiar with the rudiments 
of household affairs. Read all you can about it, — how 
your house should be arranged, what will be necessary in 
each department. Learn all you can about marketing, — 
what articles are most desirable, and during what seasons ; 
seek how to judge of the quality of the food you buy, and the 
honest price for it. These are homely details, but the knowl- 
edge wiU be all needed, indeed it is indispensable to perfect 
you in good management ; but you will secure the most effec- 
tive' knowledge, and the greatest confidence in your own 
capacity, by going about the house, and, little by little, doing 



150 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

with your own hands the work belonging to each depart- 
ment, under your mother's supervision, or that of a AveU- 
trained housekeeper. At lirst, as it is all neAv work to you, 
it Avill not be easy or pleasant ; but repeat the trial, and 
with each attempt you will find that you are acquiring skill 
and courage. Let there be no part of household labor that 
you do not perform a few times yourself, until you are well 
assured that you have sufficiently mastered it to do it again, 
or to detect any mistake or blunder in a servant. If you 
must keep servants, they will give you little comfort unless 
they see from the first — and they are usually very quick to 
discern between an intelligent or ignorant mistress — that 
you mean to overlook your work daily, and are abundantly 
able to discover any deviation from the right track. But 
above all things, unless for a year or two after marriage you 
can have the privilege of discarding servants entirely, endeav- 
or, before marriage, to feel so much at ease in the kitchen, 
and so far mistress of cooking, that you will be able easily 
to detect any failure, and know the reason for it. If bread is 
brought to the table that is not satisfactory, it is wise to be 
able to say to your cook, with confidence, " Your bread should 
have risen longer before being put into the oven. It is not 
exactly heavy ; but it feels solid, and bites tovigh." Or, 
" Your bread is full of holes. You have not kneaded it suffi- 
ciently." Or, " Cook, we must return that barrel of flour. It 
is not good. See how it ' runs ' as you are kneading it. "We 
shall have no real good bread from such flour." " The pastry 
was not nice to-day. You have handled it too much, and it 
cuts as tough as leather. Please be more careful about it." 

Thus, by spending an hour a day in your mother's kitchen, 
taking an active part in the work to be done there, and going 
through every department in the same thorough manner, 
even one month will advance you so that you can see the 
" silver lining " to all these clouds, and will give you suffi- 



CHOICE OF COLORS IN DRESS. 161 

cient confidence in your own knowledge and power, to banish 
all the mysterj- and dread. Then, when you walk with well- 
assured steps, knowing that you have conquered so far, and 
can, of course, conquer all, by patient endurance in well-doing, 
you will begin to enjoy every step of progress you make. No 
matter if you are and will be possessed of fabulous wealth, 
this knowledge should be secured by every young lady. But 
should you begin with large or small means, in either case your 
prospects of comfort and happiness are very insecure, if you 
enter the married state unwilling to ac(|uire that which every 
woman should know, — the art of housekeeping. In after 
life, when home cares may be less pressing, become lawyer, 
judge, or President, if you can ; but surely young women can 
find noble work, sufficient for all their talents and energies, in 
laying the foundation of and securely estabUshing a weU- 
ordered and happy home. 



XXXVII. 



CHOICE OF COLORS IN DRESS. 

BLONDES. 

IN the selection of articles for dress, one should be guided, 
not only by the quality of the fabric and durability of 
Color, but also by observing if the color will harmonize 
with the complexion of the wearer. 

Nothing marks refinement and culture, or the Avant of 
it, more than the combination of colors in one's attire. 
It is foUy to spend time and thought upon the adorning of 
the body, to the exclusion of other and more important mat- 
ters ; but it is always wise to do well whatever is to be 
done, and to develop and perfect such gifts as God has 



152 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

bestowed, either of body or mind, so as to make them as 
attractive and valuable as possible. We hold it to be a duty 
to give such time and thought to dress as will secure the 
largest amount of pleasure and gratification to one's family 
and friends. To labor to secure a prominent position, to 
become a leader of fashion, is another and A^ery different 
thing. When seeking to impart pleasure to friends, we are 
influenced by love ; but when striving to be among the 
most fashionable, Ave cater to a selfish vanity or a poor and 
low ambition. 

Works on the combinations of color in dress divide com- 
plexions into the " fair and ruddy blondes," and the " pale 
and florid brunettes." In the fair blonde Ave find a deli- 
cate Avhite skin ; light hair, in all the shades from a golden 
hue to yellow or orange-broAvn ; light blue or gray eyes ; a 
slight tinge of rose on the cheek, and a richer tint on the 
lips. In all such complexions the rose-color is not decided 
enough, and the hair Avould be improved by a deeper hue ; 
and these changes can be made, in a good degree, by a suit- 
able mingling of color in the dress. One of the most favor- 
able colors for the fair blonde is a delicate green, as it 
imparts to the flesh-white of the skin a tint of red, which, 
mingling Avith the natural hue, forms an agreeable rose-tint, 
— a good contrast both to the face and hair, especially if the 
hair is golden, incHning to orange. 

The best colors to mingle with the green, as trimmings, 
are red, orange, and gold. Green and gold form a rich har- 
mony, peculiarly becoming to the fair blonde. Scarlet, 
blended Avith green, harmonizes better than red ; but if red, 
inclining to crimson, is used, then orange and gold must also 
be combined Avith it. There are some shades of green that 
are not becoming, unless blended with and enlivened by 
other harmonious colors. A green bonnet, Avith rose-color 
and white, Avith a Avhite feather, Avill ahvays be becoming for 



CHOICE OF COLORS IN DRESS. 153 

this complexion. Be careful that too much white is not 
used, else it will have a cold effect, and therefore will not aid 
the fair complexion so much. Orange or gold may be sub- 
stituted for the pink or rose ; also red, in a small bonnet, 
but neither should be placed close to the face. Orange, in a 
green bonnet, in small quantities, is becoming, if the wear- 
er's eyes are blue. A few autumnal shades of red, orange, or 
yellow-green are also in harmony with the fair complexion ; 
but dark green is not at all desirable. 

Blue is very suitable, giving an orange tint, which har- 
monizes finely with the delicate white and flesh hues of the 
complexion. There is always a natural trace of orange-color 
on the skin, and this color, by intensifying this natural tint, 
is very pleasing ; but the blue must be light, and not too 
positive. Blue being the perfect contrast of orange, it agrees 
finely with golden or orange-brown hair. This is the reason 
that light blue head-dresses are so very becoming on light 
hair. To give a good effect to blue by gas-Hght, a little 
white or very pale blue is necessary to be in contrast or 
very near the face. If there are green leaves with the blue 
flowers of a head-dress, they should be placed as near the 
face as possible. 

White, black, a very little yeUow, orange, straw, or 
stone color, may either of them be used in the trimmings of 
a light blue bonnet with good effects ; but not if there are 
pink or purple flowers on it, as these colors mingled with 
blue are unsuitable. The colors to be used carefully or 
avoided altogether, with fair complexions, are yellow, orange, 
red, and purple. The light shades of lilac may be sometimes 
used ; but it is very trying, and must always, if used, be 
separated from the flesh by an edging of tulle or some sim- 
ilar trimming, or be associated with its harmonizing colors, 
cherry, scarlet, light crimson, or gold color, and then they 
will in part overcome the bad effects ; but green and lilac 
7* 



154 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

should never be coupled, as it will form a positive discord. 
A very little light purple is agreeable for a head-dress on light 
hair, but must be placed near the skin. 

Neutral colors, if not too dark, accord well with fair 
blondes ; gray, fawn, drab, and some few shades of brown 
are the best. Black is good for the fair blonde who has 
some healthy color, because it increases the rose in the com- 
plexion ; but it is bad for pale skins, as it bleaches them by 
the painful contrast. ISTo delicate color can be blended with 
black without seeming of a lighter tone. Unless used for 
mourning, black must be mingled with either blue, cherry, 
mulberry, drab, or lilac, to remove the somber eifects ; but 
cherry and lilac must be used sparingly. Red must not be 
used at all with black for fair blondes, as it gives a rusty 
tinge. AVhite is suitable with black, if some other color is 
added ; otherAvise it is too cold. A black bonnet looks well 
with a fair complexion, but a little white and rose-color 
should be added, keeping the rose away from the skin. 
White is pleasant for all complexions, but more so with the 
fair blonde who has some color than for any other. Bright 
colors with white bonnet may be added, but must be kept 
low, and well grouped. White increases the paleness of a 
pale skin, but this effect may be neutralized by a blue or 
green wreath brought well on the face. 

The ruddy hlonde has a full-toned complexion, inclining 
to positive rose-red or carnation ; dark blue or broAvn eyes, 
blonde and brown hair. All the colors suitable for the fair 
are generally suitable for the ruddy blonde, but the tones 
and in some cases the hues must be changed. As a rule 
this type may use more freedom in the selection of colors 
than the fair ; her complexion, not being so delicate, is less 
sensitive. The hair being the medium between gold and 
black, and the complexion higher toned and more positive, 
rich and moderately dark colors may be used. 



CHOICE OF COLORS IN DRESS. 156 

Green is very becoming, but it must be of the darker 
shades, and not the delicate green that is so becoming for 
the fair blonde. If the complexion is light and can use 
more red, without being overcharged, rich, full-toned green, 
such as grass or moss green, may be used, as, although suffi- 
ciently bright to yield color to the skin, it is not so powerful 
a contrast as to bleach it. In proportion as the complexion 
increases in color a deeper green may be selected, passmg from 
the positive to the neutral hues, as sage, tea, or oUve green. 
These deep, neutral greens do not cast much red, while they 
both harmonize with and reduce the nutural hue. A simple 
rule for the ruddy blonde is, the paler her complexion the 
brighter must be the green she wears, the rosier the cheek 
the deeper and more neutral must be the green. For the 
high-toned blonde the green may be neutralized by mingling 
rose, scarlet, orange, or white flowers. If on the inside of a 
bonnet, the colored flowers must be surrounded with some 
gray or semi-transparent material to keep from contrast Avith 
the skin. On the outside dead-green or autumnal leaves, 
with a feAv flowers of orange or scarlet, are selected. Eose- 
colored flowers harmonize better Avith bright yellow-green 
than with dead-green leaves. 

Blue also is suitable, but it follows the same rules as green : 
it must be deeper and richer for the ruddy blonde than for 
the fair. The best colors to associate with the rich blues 
are orange, salmon, and chocolate ; white and black also har- 
monize wdth blue. Bonnets and head-dresses, and wreaths 
of blue, need the same colors blended as for the fair blonde, 
only of a deeper tint, and all colors pointed out as injurious 
by the one type must be avoided by the other. The most 
difiicult color to introduce in any dress is violet ; its effect 
on all complexions being so unsatisfactory. AU skins appear 
yelloAv when in contrast with it, and look sickly and disa- 
greeable. A large proportion of yellow is needed to reduce 



156 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

and neutralize the effects of violet. It becomes positively- 
lost in artificial light, and should never be used or introduced 
into an evening dress. 

iS^eutral colors are mostly suitable for the ruddy blonde ; 
when light they increase the color, when dark they reduce 
it by contrast. Eusset, gray, slate, maroon, and all shades 
of broAvn are the most pleasing of the darTc neutrals, and 
gray, drab, fawn, and stone color, the most desirable of the 
light neutrals. 



I 



XXXVIII. 

HAEMONIZING COLOES IN DRESS. 

BRUNETTES. 

IS" the last chapter we noticed the colors most appropriate 
and harmonious for the fair and the ruddy blonde. 
"We shall now note a few peculiarities of the pale and the 
florid brunette. 

In the 2^<^de brunette, the eyes and hair are usually a deep 
brown or brown-black, and the skin pale, often Avith some 
sallow shade. With this peculiar complexion, light or very 
dark colors are the most becoming, because the light colors 
harmonize with the tint of the skin, and the dark colors 
with the hue of the hair and eyes. Thus we foUoAv ISTature's 
coloring, and sustain her effective contrasts. When the col- 
ors of the dress are a medium between the skin and hair and 
eyes, they " reduce the expression, and injure or destroy the 
greatest charm." 

Blade being similar to the color of eyes and hair, and a 
perfect contrast to the complexion, increases the piirity of the 
natural tints, and is very suitable for the pale brunette. All 



HARMONIZING COLORS IN DRESS. 157 

the shades of dark brown being similar to the hair and eyes, 
are also appropriate. Claret, dark russet, and crimson are 
not unsuitable, but less desirable and becoming than black 
or brown. 

Positive blue, green, or purple must not be used ; but dark 
blue, green, or violet may be accepted, provided the com- 
plexion has no shade of yellow or saUowness. If there is, 
these colors must all be avoided. 

White, being analogous to the hue of the skin, is very de- 
sirable, enhancing the richness of the eyes and hair, and, as 
it receives a yellow tint from artificial light, is particularly 
desirable for an evening dress for the pale brunette. Yellow 
and white united are also becoming in the evening for this 
class of complexion, but become dull by daylight, and very 
undesirable. Gold or maize color contrasts pleasantly with 
black or dark brown eyes and hair, and neutralizes any dis- 
agreeable saUowness that there may be in the skin. 

The florid brunette often inclines to the oUve complexion, 
and, in many cases, to the copper-colored, or subdued yellow, 
or orange-brown, with more positive red on lip and cheek 
than in the blonde types. The eyes are black, the hair jet 
or blue-black. The tones yellow, orange, and red predomi- 
nate in the florid brunette, and harmonize together by analogy 
or similarity ; but they also harmonize with the black hair 
and eyes, by contrast ; therefore great care and good judg- 
ment shoiild be exercised, lest this agreeable group of har- 
monizing tints should be weakened or destroyed by the use 
of objectionable colors. On the other hand, it is desirable 
to seek to neutralize any unpleasant tone in the complexion, 
caused by too much yellow, which will other-wise give a sallow 
and unhealthy tinge to the skin. Yellow, maize, or gold color 
will efl'ect this ; because, while they contrast favorably with 
the color of the hair and eyes, intensifying their richness by 
the purple tint which this cambination forms, they also har- 



158 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

monize, by analogy, with the tints of the complexion, and at 
the same time sufficiently neutralize any excess of yellow that 
these tints may exhibit. When the skin shows more orange 
than yellow, maize or yellow in the dress will enrich the com- 
plexion by the increase of red which these colors Avill develop. 

A yellow bonnet is very becoming to the florid brunette ; 
but as it is worn near and surrounds the face, much of its 
effects must be neutralized by introducing violet, purple, or 
deep blue as trimmings ; they must not come in contact with 
the face, however, and should be used very sparingly. 

Orange is too brilliant and gaudy to be used in dress, ex- 
cept in very small quantities, and the same rule holds good 
of red, scarlet, bright crimson, magenta, and all brilliant 
colors of the like class ; they, with orange, are suited to 
some complexions where it is advantageous to neutralize, but 
they are too bright for general costume. A scarlet head-dress 
is becoming with dark hair, intensifying it by contrast, and 
by the purple shade which it adds when worn near black. 
Dark ^red, also, is suitable for complexions that have too 
much red on the cheeks or lips, neutralizing the color of the 
skin, and reducing it by contrast. Violet is not agreeable, 
unless its bad effects are controlled or counteracted by the 
addition of yellow ; but the dark shades of violet are less 
objectionable than the positive color. A violet bonnet may 
be used with this type of complexion, if trimmed with pale 
yellow, — primroses, for instance ; the flowers being a good 
contrast to the violet bonnet, and harmonizing well with the 
skin. 

A black bonnet is not as becoming for the brunette as for 
the blonde ; but by using white, red, orange, or yellow trim- 
mings, it is quite pleasing. It enhances the red by reducing 
the lighter tints of the skin, but it has no power to neutralize 
any objectionable tint that may exist. White is more favor- 
able than black, and accords well with this complexion. A 



HARMONIZING COLORS IN DRESS. 159 

white bounet is suitable, if trimmed with red, orange, or 
yellow ; but the yellow shoidd be mingled with white only 
for evening wear. 

In grouping color with color, nothing is more common 
than to see discordant tints placed together, — purple and 
green, for instance ; and however rich the material or beau- 
tiful the wearer, such incongruity is exceedingly distasteful. 
In arranging colors, it shoidd be borne in mind that there 
are two kinds of harmony, — the harmony of contrast and 
the harmony of analogy. "When two dissimilar colors are 
blended agreeably, such as blue and orange, or lilac and 
cherry, they form a harmony of contrast. Two distant 
tones of one color, such as very light and very dark blue, 
associated, harmonize by contrast ; but in this latter in- 
stance, the harmony is neither so striking nor so perfect. 
When similar colors, such as orange and scarlet, crimson and 
crimson-brown, are grouped together, they form a harmony 
of analogy ; and if two or more shades of color, closely ap- 
proximating in intensity, are associated, they harmonize by 
analogy. 

Harmonies of contrast are more effective, but not more 
important, than those of analogy. The former are brilliant 
and decisive, the latter quiet and undemonstrative. Both 
hold equal positions in matters of dress, and in arranging the 
colors of the costume be careful to choose the proper species 
of harmony. 

There are two rules to be observed : first, associate with 
colors favorable to the complexion tints that will harmonize 
bj'' analogy or similarity, because contrasting colors would 
diminsh and injure its favorable effect ; second, if the color 
selected for the dress is injurious to the complexion, then 
contrasting color must be associated with it, to neutralize its 
objectionable influence. 

There is much more to be said on the selection of colors 



160 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

for dress, but we must not trespass longer. We hope that, 
by our having thus called attention to this subject, our read- 
ers may find it sufficiently interesting to become familiar 
with the rules given, and carry the lessons it may have taught 
into practical use. 

We are very largely indebted to " A Manual for Ladies," 
by W. and G. Audsley, for much of the information grouped 
in this and the preceding article. 



XXXIX. 

A WOED ABOUT MOTHS. 

" ny yrOTHS in the winter ! Pray don't speak of them ! 
-LVJL Some weeks later will be time enough to stir up our 
minds by way of remembrance. The vexatious little tor- 
ments ! they surely don't work in vmiter ! And yet I have 
noticed several little spots, or holes, that looked as if eaten 
by moths. I am sure they were not there early in the fall : 
I could n't understand it, but was so confident that moths 
did not do their mischief in winter, that I have been trying 
to find some other cause for these marks." 

Ah ! there was where you were mistaken. There are two 
kinds of moths, — one a large silver-colored fly ; its Avorm 
is shaped somewhat like those found in chestnuts. The oth- 
er was first noticed some eight or ten years since, by the up- 
holsterers. It is smaller, of a brown or dark drab color. It 
is governed by no times or seasons, but works steadily on, 
summer and winter. The heat of our city homes or furnace- 
heated country-houses may promote this uninterrupted activ- 
ity. The moth or fly, it is said, finds its way into a sofa or 
chair between the back or seat under the lining, Avhere, 



A WORD ABOUT MOTHS. 161 

among the springs, it finds a safe and convenient hiding- 
place. They will often secure a home in these secret places 
within a week of the time that furniture, right from the cab- 
inet-maker's, has been brought into the house. If they do, 
they are so enormously prolific that in a month or two they 
can be numbered by thousands. We cannot but think that 
when, in a carefully kept house, these moths are found in new 
furniture, they must have been first introduced through poorly 
prepared hair or material with which the article was uphol- 
stered ; or the hair, having been wet, Avas used before it was 
carefully dried. This theory may be only an imagination 
of our own but every year's experience confirms the idea, 
— upholsterers to the contrary notwithstanding. 

It is said that these moths will not eat pure curled hair, 
but only use it to fasten their cocoons upon, as being secure 
from any disturbance, through the elasticity of the hair. 
They use the inside of furniture only for propagation, and 
here at the same time may be found the fly, the worms, and 
the eggs. From tliis concealment the worm escapes, to feed 
on the plush or woolen materials, or, falling to the floor, 
feeds on the carpet. Plush being made with cotton back 
generally, they seldom eat through that, though they do 
sometimes cut through the muslin backs of sofas, etc. Little 
protection may be hoped for from the use of cayenne pepper, 
Scotcli snuff, camphor, turpentine, or all other remedies 
against the large moth. Continual Avatchfulness is the only 
safety. 

At least once a week tlie furniture should be moved away 
from the Avails into the middle of the room and well brushed 
and beaten with a "furniture whip" or braided ratans. 
After brushing carefully all around the buttons with a furni- 
ture button-brush, pull up the material Avhich will lie in 
loose folds or pleats about the buttons, and hold them up 
with one hand Avhile you brush off all lint or dust that may 



162 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

have settled in these folds. These are nice little hiding- 
places for the worm, and must be looked after. As fast as 
each piece of furniture has been faithfully brushed and 
whipped, set it into the next room and keep the doors 
closed. 

"Wliile cleaning, turn each chair or sofa bottom-side upward 
and beat the backs and under part of the seats, to dislodge 
any that may have found shelter inside. When the furni- 
ture has received all needed attention, and is removed from 
the room, give the carpet a thorough cleansing by going over 
it with a " carpet-sweeper." ISTothing so effectually gathers 
up the Avorms or eggs, and the carpet is less worn than 
when swept with a broom. Of course, in the corners 
and around the edges, where the " carpet-sweeper " cannot 
work, you must use a small whisk-broom and dust-pan, and 
this must be done before going over the main part of the 
carpet. 

In using a " sweeper " be careful to empty it once or twice 
while going over a large room, pulling out all the strings and 
hair that may, when gathered up, have twisted around the 
axle of the circular brush inside the box. If not removed, it 
will soon obstruct the motion, and its operation be ineffectual. 
In using a " carpet-sweeper " have everything out of the way 
of the machine, that you may have a clear siu'face across the 
whole length of the room, if possible ; hold the handle up 
nearly straight, so as to bring all the brush underneath in 
contact Avith the carpet ; press down, and with a firm hand 
run oA^er the breadth from one end of the room to the other, 
going by the seam or thread, lengtliAvise. When at the far- 
ther end lift up the box so that it Avill not touch the carpet, 
and, turning round, proceed till the whole length of the car- 
pet has been swept ; then begin AvidthAvise and proceed in 
the same manner, only be careful to run straight. If the 
" sweeper " is turned round AA^hile resting on the floor, the 



A WORD ABOUT MOTHS. 163 

dirt is apt to drop out in rolls by the process of turning. It 
requires a little experience and good judgment to use a " car- 
pet-sweeper " judiciously ; but once understand it and you 
will not willingly be without one. When this work is 
done, empty all the dirt from the " sweeper " and comb the 
rolling-brush with a coarse or " fringe comb." 

But to return to the moths. If they get inside your fur- 
niture, they may be destroyed by taking off the muslin under 
the seats, the outside ends, and the backs, where they most 
naturally seek privacy. If this must be done, take each piece 
out to the yard or on a back veranda, after you have removed 
the lining ; spread down an old sheet and set the furniture on 
it, and beat with a stick to dislodge the moths. Watch for the 
flies and worms that you have routed, and kill them as fast as 
they are seen. If you do not succeed in killing all of them, 
by a repetition of this operation a few times they will be dis- 
turbed and leave the furniture, as they seek to be left in 
quiet. If they attack the carpet they generally begin under 
the sofas and chairs or on the edges of the carpet in the 
corners of the room. In this case, as soon as you find the 
first intimation of their ill-omened presence, spread a wet 
sheet on the carpet, and pass a hot flat-iron over quickly ; 
keep a number of irons heating and change often. The heat 
and steam will destroy both worm and egg. 

But do not let this success beguile you into any remissness. 
They can " creep slyly through a tiny space," and in a few 
weeks, if they find you sleeping on your post, will effect an 
entrance, and will have increased and multiplied until the 
last state of that furniture "will be worse than the first. 



164 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

XL. 

WINTER BUTTER. 

MUCH has been .said and written on making winter 
butter. Our papers bring daily complaints of the 
article as sold in our markets, and furnish us with many 
elaborate directions how to overcome an evil which can no 
longer be meekly endured. 

In large butter factories, with every facility for preserving 
uniform temperature, it is not easy to accept any excuse for 
poor butter, summer or winter ; but when butter is only 
made in small quantities, simply for family consumption, 
and at a time when the cows are giving much less milk than 
in the summer and fall, there is a necessity for more care and 
labor in securing good butter than when we can furnish 
green pastures and fresh food for the cows. Still we all ex- 
pect, and should be willing to accept, more discomforts in 
our winter's labors than we find in warm weather. Aside 
from these considerations we fail to see any insurmountable 
difficulty in securing good sweet butter in the winter. Of 
course Ave do not look for yellow butter at this season of the 
year, and when we see it we distrust its purity ; but the 
golden color, though desirable, as a pleasure to the eye, is 
not an essential. For years we made a large portion of our 
own butter from only one cow, with but a few conveniences, 
and with very limited accommodations to aid us in the work ; 
but Ave never had biitei- butter, and have never found a 
good reason why any one should be compelled to suffer from 
that infliction. 

In the first place, a great deal depends on having pure, 
clear milk to start with, and to secure that we think a warm, 



WINTER BUTTER. 165 

clean shelter and good food should he provided for the ani- 
mals. Aside from good hay, free from mustiness, they should 
have as large a supply of roots — beets, pumpkins, carrots, 
or potatoes, Avhichever is the most convenient, or some of 
all • — as you can furnish ; hut Avhatever is given should be 
entirely free from decay, if you would have a healthy cow 
and pure milk. 

The milk Avill receive no unnatural flavor from any or all 
of these roots ; but no skill can conceal the use of cabbages 
or turnips, however small the quantity. We know many 
affirm that they invariably give them to their milch cows 
and perceive no disagreeable taste in the milk from their 
use. Judging from much of the butter found in our mar- 
kets, we can easily believe that cabbages and turnips were 
lavishly fed to the cows from whose milk the butter was 
made ; and how any one can fail to notice the unpleasant 
flavor given by such food we cannot understand. Still, we 
will not quarrel with those who choose to use these esculents 
so long as our cows are not fed with them and we are not 
obliged to eat the butter. 

"Warm food, at least once a day, is not only good for the 
animal, but insures a better quality and larger quantity of 
milk and butter. It is very little trouble to put a large ket- 
tle over the stove or range early in the morning, and boil 
such small potatoes as are not nice for table use, or a few 
carrots, together with all the parings of potatoes or the rind of 
pumpkins left from cooking. When they have become soft, 
mash with a long-handled masher, such as any boy of ten has 
sufficient skill to make ; then thicken the water in which they 
were boiled with a few handfuls of " shorts " or coarse barley 
or oatmeal ; corn meal will decrease the quantity of milk and 
fatten the cow. Give your cows a generous feed of this mush 
once a day at least, and they will amply repay your care by 
increasing and enriching the supply of milk. 



166 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

"With yoiu' cows thus fed, kept dry and warm, well cleaned 
and curried, — for a coav needs that care as much as a horse, 
— you will have good milk, and from it cream which, with 
proper care, can be as readily made into good butter in winter 
as in summer. 

ISToAV as to " proper care," we speak only of private fami- 
lies who have but one or two cows. If your milk-room is in 
the cellar, it should be entirely separated from the vegetable 
cellar, and used for nothing that can impart any flavor to 
the milk, either meats, roots, sauces, or fluids. If it is well 
cemented and banked up, so as to prevent freezing, you will 
have very httle trouble in keeping the milk warm enough 
for the cream to begin to rise quickly. Of course you will 
pour boiling water into the pans, and have them well heated 
before straining the milk into them. If you have on hand 
two sizes of pans, fill the larger one third full of boiling 
water, then strain the milk into a smaller pan, filling it not 
half full, and set it into the hot water ; turn another pan 
over the top, but not close enough to exclude aU air. By so 
doing you will find that the cream mil rise more rapidly and 
can be more easily churned. When one has but little mUk, 
this is not much trouble. 

If you have no cellar that can be kept warm and free from 
the smell of vegetables, set your milk on a shelf, in a warm 
closet, Avhere, of course, you will keep no vegetables or meats, 
as nothing is so easily impregnated with odors of all kinds 
as milk. Cover the pans or bowls with a fine net, to ex- 
clude dust or motes of any kind. 

. Thirty-six hours is as long as milk should remain un- 
skimmed, summer or winter. Every hour longer, even 
though the milk may taste sweet, is insuring bitter butter. 
As you skim off the cream, stir it well each time. The cream 
should not be in the cream-pot longer than two days before 
churning. Three days may give you moderately good but- 
tei', but it is a very doubtful experiment. 



WINTER BUTTER, 167 

" But how can we churn every two days when we do not 
gather more than a quart of cream in that time 1 It would 
be lost in our churn ; we could do nothing with it." 

Take it into a large bowl, and beat or stir it steadily with 
a silver or wooden spoon. It will take you no longer than 
to churn in the regular manner, and you will secure a nice 
roll of sweet butter. But a better, because an easier and more 
convenient Avay, is to buy a tall one-gallon stone jar, and get 
a carpenter to turn you a handle ; put on two cross-pieces at 
the bottom, fidl of holes ; or a circle small enough to go into 
the jar ; pierce this circle with holes as large as a thimble ; 
another circle for a cover, just to fit the top of the jar, Avith 
a hole in the center that will slip over the handle, and you 
have a nice churn, dasher and all. Now put on your large 
apron, lay a book on the table before you, take your little 
churn in your lap or on a bench by your side, and read, 
churn, and rock the cradle if need be (reading and rocking 
the cradle are not essential, but are very pleasant ad- 
ditions). In fifteen minutes' steady churning you wiU 
find the butter has come, and can be brought together 
in this tiny churn as nicely as you can desire. If you can't 
get at a carpenter, ask your husband or son to do it ; or, fail- 
ing there, have n't you mechanical skiU sufficient to make a 
dasher and fit it to a stone jar yourself? A piece of a 
broom-stick, scoiired and polished with sand-paper (or if you 
have no sand-paper scrape it clean and smooth with a bit of 
glass) ; two cross-pieces full of holes, screwed on to the bot- 
tom of the stick ; a round piece fitted into the top of the 
jar for cover, — you can whittle it smooth, can you not 1 — 
with a hole for the handle to pass through, and you have just 
as serviceable a churn as any carpenter could make you, only, 
perhaps, lacking a little in the finish a carpenter might have 
given. 

Xow, as to the working of the butter : some say, wash it 



1G8 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

faitlifully J others insist that no water should come in contact 
with the butter. If you have strength and skill enough to 
work out all the huttermiUi; with a ladle, or a hand cool and 
firm enough to toss it from one hand to the other, giving 
quick, skillful blows as it passes, so that every drop of but- 
termilk may be beaten out, then we say, never wash the butter. 
But although you do, and by washing must lose some of the 
rich flavor our mother's butter used to have, before there 
were any " modern improvements," still, better so than not 
secure entire freedom from buttermilk. If any remains, you 
cannot have butter that ^vill keep sweet one week. 

Take the butter from the churn into a wooden bowl that 
has been well scalded, and then soaked and cooled in cold 
water, and with the ladle press out all the buttermilk you 
can ; this done, throw a handful of salt into three or four 
quarts of cold water, and wash the butter quickly and thor- 
oughly with it ; the salt causes the buttermilk to flow oft" 
more readily ; pour off the salt-water, and wash again with 
clear cold water till it runs clear, drain off and sprinkle over 
the butter what salt it requires to suit your own taste. 
There is such a variety of tastes, that the exact quantity of 
salt cannot be easily given. We use a table-spoonful of salt 
to a pound of butter. Press the butter into a compact form, 
after working in the salt, cover over with a clean cloth, and 
set it away to harden. The next morning break up and 
work it over once more ; make into neat roUs or prints, put 
it into a stone pot, and cover with brine strong enough to 
bear up an egg. Try this and see if you cannot have good 
butter in winter. 



REPAIRS. 169 

XLI. 

REPAIRS. 

" Tlie mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, 
Gars auld claes look aniaist as weel 's tlie new." 

A FRIEND writes : " I have been much interested in 
the Grand Patching and Darning Exhibition ; but 
my husband is rather skeptical as to any great good resulting 
from it. He seems to think it a waste of time to do tliis 
work with such particularity, and doubts if, in these days of 
plenty, women will find it necessary to patch, piece, and 
darn so elaborately. I reply, that probably a large portion 
of those who have seen or read of this work may never 
be called upon to do it ; yet we know that there are many, 
very many who are, and will be, compelled to economize ma- 
terial, tlhougli at the loss of time ; and therefore I think this 
exhibition will prove a good thing, if it should lead to a 
more thorough knowledge of the way to do this work well. 
How much more respectable and comfortable the poorer 
classes could be made, if the wife and mother understood 
how to piece, patch, and darn neatly, and so contrive that 
the smallest scrap could be used to good advantage and pre- 
sent an attractive appearance. I wish you would give us a 
talk on this subject." 

So much has been said, and well said, since this Exhibition 
was first planned, that a word from us may seem quite super- 
fluous. A motherly care for our " Household," however, 
tempts us to venture, though we do not intend to weary 
our readers with many words. Every point has already been 
ably discussed, and we can furnish nothing new. 

Possibly, many of those who have read about this " Darn- 



170 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ing and Patching " have turned away, saying, " Thanlc 
fortune ! I shall never need to employ myself about such 
work ; I should feel that I was spending my time foolishly." 
Would the time spent in perfecting yourself in this accom- 
plishment be more wasted, think you, than that which you 
give daily to crocheting and embroidering a host of things 
unlike aught in heaven above, the earth beneath, or the 
waters under the earth 1 And yet, the time spent in fancy- 
work has taught you little that you could turn to practical 
use, should reverses befall you, — and who is secured against 
reverses 1 Fortune is fickle, and policies taken out in her 
insurance companies are not reliable. 

We would not speak slightingly of many kinds of really 
elegant fancy articles and ornaments which women's skill 
has wrought. If you have the time to spare, then, " these 
ought ye to have done, but not to leave the other undone." 
Should disaster come, and any of us be compelled to " rise up 
early, and sit up late, and eat the bread of carefulness," — 
to plan and turn and contrive, using all the skill we possess 
to "gar auld claes look amaist asweel's the new," — how 
thankful we should be that in our younger and more pros- 
perous days we had been taught this art, and by it Avere 
now able to carry with us into our altered circumstances a 
power to bring light out of darkness. If one knows how to 
renovate and remodel, there is far more genuine pleasure in 
using the knowledge to construct new out of old, than can 
possibly be gained Avhile shopping on the most extravagant 
scale. To walk into a store with a full purse, and buy, with- 
out stint, whatever the eye covets ; to send the material to 
the dress-maker, and have it made and brought home Avithout 
any effort on our part, is a tame enjoyment compared with con- 
triving the dress from a scanty pattern, or from odd bits and 
ends. We weary of that which costs us no toil or thought ; 
the charm soon vanishes, and we seek for something new. 



REPAIRS. 171 

Now, suppose you examine a dress that has done good 
service. It is somewhat spotted and a good deal soiled ; 
but you say, " It is so pretty and becoming, I shall feel like 
losing an old friend if I throw it aside ; what can I do to 
renew its beauty 1 " If the material is silk or woolen, even 
of the most delicate colors, you can very easily clean it with- 
out fading. After ripping it with care, prepare equal parts 
of alcohol, soft soap, and molasses. Half a pint of each 
will clean a silk dress, unless you have wasted twenty-five 
or thirty yards on one dress ; in that case you will need a 
larger quantity of the preparation. Have near you two 
small tubs or pails of water, one warm, the other cool, unless 
the material is woolen, when you should use hot water for 
both. Sj)read one piece of the dress at a time on to an iron- 
ing-sheet ; dip a clean sponge into this very dirty-looking, 
but very effective wash ; rub each spot separately till you 
have cleansed it ; then, keeping the sponge wet, go over the 
Avhole piece, wetting it thoroughly, and carefully removing 
the dirt and spots. When satisfied that you have done your 
best, rinse the piece faithfully in the first water ; do not 
wring it, but hold it up and let it drain a moment ; then 
shake and snap vigorously, to remove as much water as you 
can. Put it through the second water in the same manner ; 
snap as dry as you can, at least so that it vdll not drip ; 
spread smoothly on the ironing-sheet, and iron quickly. Be 
careful to iron hy a thread, and iron till perfectly dry. Have 
your irons as hot as you can use Avithout scorching. If the 
material is the same on both sides, iron on that which was 
first used as the outside of the dress, but make it Tip inside 
out. 

TMs preparation is such a vile, dirty-looking compound, 
one would suppose it would ruin anything touched by it. 
Not so at all. "We have cleaned the most delicate silks and 
ribbons, — blues, violet^, jiinks, and greens, — and have 



172 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

never failed to secure a very good renovation of the ma- 
terials, without changing or weakening the color, or leaving' 
the harsh, stiff crackle on the silk which washing usually 
gives. 

Having cleansed the dress, now, suppose you 'see how 
much ingenuity you can display in remodeling it. Change 
the gathers or pleats, that the most wear may fall on stronger 
spots ; alter the position of trimming to hide some weak 
place, or improvise something to suit the exigencies of the 
case. If cracked or much worn at top and bottom, cut off 
all that must go ; then cut the upper part of the skirt off 
from the bottom, about as high up as you wish your trim- 
ming to go, and set in a piece of lining or paper muslin, to 
supply the length of what you have cut away from the 
broken parts of the skirt. Over this " sham " lay the fold, 
puff, ruffle, or flounce you have prepared for trimming. It 
Ls good economy, we think, to buy a large pattern when you 
get a new dress, that there may be some left for repairs, at 
least for new sleeves and waist ; but if you have' none, piece, 
— piece very neatly, of course ; and with ribbon, silk, or 
velvet, of a color to contrast, or harmonize with the dress, 
form your triromings. 

By skill, a garment may be so entirely metamorphosed, 
that your " dearest and best " will compliment you on your 
new dress. The only good thing about the present style of 
overskirts, flounces, paniers, bows, and every conceivable and 
inconceivable shape of trimming, is, that it is a wonderful 
help in making old things new. 

Some time since, we noticed that a young friend, who is 
generally remarkably neat and simple in her taste, was rather 
more elaborately dressed than usual. We honestly compli- 
mented her on the pretty silk, the fine fit, and very becoming 
color. 

" But I see," said she, " you refrain from a word of com- 



ACCURATE WEIGHTS AND MEASURES IN COOKING. 173 

mendation for my trimmings. They don't suit your taste, I 
know, my friend, and pray don't think that they are in ex- 
act accordance with my own. Let me tell you a secret. 
Every bow, band, strap, fold, and frill hides a piece set in or 
a hole meniled." 

In the midst of a large company, there was not a lady that 
appeared more genteelly or better dressed than our friend. 
If there were more like this modestly independent and in- 
dustrious girl, we should hear very little of the talk, so com- 
mon nowadays, that young men are unable to marry, because 
the young ladies are so extravagant. 



XLII. 
ACCURATE WEIGHTS AND MEASURES IN COOKING. 

YOUNG housekeepers very often complain that, not- 
withstanding their most earnest efforts to work in 
strict accordance with given rules or receipts, their failures 
are more frequent than their successes. They admit that 
sometimes their work proves satisfactory, but ask, " Why 
should it not always be so ? " 

The difference in the results of their various trials can 
only be attributed to the method and accuracy, or to the 
haste and carelessness, with which their labor is performed. 
Unless there was some fault in the materials, some difference 
in the quality, arising from change between the successive 
trials, or the oven and fire were not properly regulated, there 
can be no reason for the failure, except the fact that the 
receipts and rules were nor always strictly followed. 

" But," say they, " we used to see our mothers throw the 
materials together, apparently without thought, and we have 



174 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

often seen others set about the work of making cake, pies, 
•or bread with such an easy, nonchalant air that, to our inex- 
perienced eyes, it was perfectly marvelous that any good 
results could possibly follow ; yet the article would come 
from the oven in all respects perfect. Time after time we 
have seen this done, and the work always blessed with a sat- 
isfactory termination ; but if we attempt that mode of labor, 
the most disastrous and mortifying consequences are siire to 
rise up against us. Why is this 1 " 

Simply because you are attempting to walk before you 
have learned to creep, and naturally get some sore falls by 
the premature attempt. It is only when accustomed to this 
labor by long years of constant practice, so that it is done 
almost by instinct, that any one should venture to deviate 
from strict observance of well-established rules. But there 
are very few, comparatively, of the most accomplished and 
mature housekeepers who attempt this free-and-easy way of 
cooking ; or if, in some emergency requiring haste, they are 
driven^ to it, they will assure you that they seldom succeed 
so perfectly as they would have done had they weighed and 
measured with their usual care and precision. Occasionally 
we find a few natural-born cooks, with " a law unto them- 
selves," just as we find persons who have a natural gift 
for dress-making and millinery, Avhose work, performed in- 
stinctively, equals any French modiste's. But such cases 
are rare, and, we are inclined to think, undesirable, except 
for one's own ease. "Where there are young girls about, 
either in the family or among friends, who may be obliged 
to look to you for instruction, you would find it very diffi- 
cult and embarrassing, had you that gift, to attempt to 
teach or put into. words anything which you are able to do 
so entirely by intuition. Even in your own mind, you would 
find yourself at a loss how to frame a definite rule or receipt 
for doing it. Your hands seem to perform it independently of 



ACCURATE WEIGHTS AND MEASURES IN COOKING. 175 

your head. Let some of these gifted ones attempt to write 
out a receipt which a beginner could easily follow, and they 
would make much more awkward work of it than you do in 
your efforts to work without a definite rule. 

" But even when we do proceed in exact accordance with 
the receipts, we often fail." 

Are you sure you are exact 1 We think not. It requires 
some little experience to be able to weigh and measure cor- 
rectly, and we have often noticed that it is the lack of this 
experience which causes failure in most young housekeepers. 
If it lacks " only a little " of being full weight, or is " only 
a little" too much, are you not very likely to say, " 0, 
it 's quite near enough ; such slight difference can't matter, 
and I am in a hurry " % 

" Only a little thing " has done much harm in almost 
every department of life, — ■ a miscliief that is often irreme- 
diable. If there is only a little too much flour, your 
bread or cake will be solid ; not heavy, perhaps, but lacking 
that light, tender state which is so desirable. Or, if only a 
little less than the proper measure is used, it will "fall" 
from the crust, and come upon your table flat and sodden. 

A pair of scales and accurate measures are the only safe re- 
liance, but these are not always to be found in every family. 
It is, therefore, very desirable to have always at hand a table 
of correct measures. Indeed, when the table is perfect, it is 
much more convenient and easier to prepare the proper pro- 
portions by measuring than by weighing, only one must use 
care and judgment to allow for any extraordinary moistiire 
in the articles, as it would affect a measure more than scales. 
It is always better to put flour, meal, sugar, etc., near the 
fire to dry before measuring. 

A table of measures, plainly printed in good-sized type, 
should be hung over the table or on the wall in every 
kitchen. 



176 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

We close with a convenient table of liquid and dry meets- 

lire : — 

Liquid. Dry. 

60 drops = 1 teaspoonfuL 2 even teaspoonfuls = 1 even table- 

2 teaspoonfuls = 1 tablespoonful. spoonfuL 

4 tablespoonfuls = 1 half -gill. 4 " tablespoonfuls = 1 ounce. 

8 " =1 gill. 8 " " =1 gill. 

2 gills = 1 tumblerful or half-pint, 2 gills = 1 tumblerful or half-pint. 
2 tumblerfuls = 1 pint. 2 tumblerfuls = 1 pint. 

2 pints = 1 quart. 2 pints = 1 quart. 

4 quarts = 1 gallon. 1 heaped q't sifted flour \ _ t^ + -i 

1 " " sugar I "^^^^^ 

1 even q't softened butter-' 
1 pint of water = 1 pound. 
10 eggs = about 1 pound- 



XLIII. 

TEACHING LITTLE GIELS TO SEW. 

" "VT'ES, I suppose I shall be obliged to teach my little 
JL girl to sew, some time ; but I am very thankful that 
I have some years yet before I need take up this cross. I 
supply her with bits of cloth, needles, thread, and scissors, 
and let her amuse herself with an attempt at sewing ; but how 
I dread the time when I must begin in earnest, and try to 
teach her the proper way ! I sometimes hope that by letting 
her botch and play sewing, by and by, as she sees me mak- 
ing even seams, and taking small stitches, she will, by imita- 
tion and observation, gradually learn, without much effort 
on my part. Do you not think that she may 1 " 

Never. No doubt some children learn with much less 
effort than others ; but by letting your little girl " play sew- 
ing," — hotching as you term it, — you only connive at her 



TEACHING LITTLE GIRLS TO SEW. 177 

acquiring a careless habit which she will not easily exchange 
for straight seams and tiny stitches. 

" "Would you advise me to keep thread and needles and 
cloth from her, and endeavor to interest her in some other 
play, till such time as I am compelled to teach her how to 
use them properly 1 " 

No ; why should you debar her from such innocent amuse- 
ments 1 Why not begin at once to teach her how to do a 
thing right, even when in play 1 

" Teach that baby ! What can she learn at her age 1 " 

Can she not thread her needle % 

" Certainly ; quite expertly." 

And can she not push her needle in and out of the cloth 1 

" yes ; for a baby, she shows quite a genius for this 
quiet kind of womanly accomplishment." 

Then you see she can learn something, notwithstanding 
her youth. How much more maturity or skill, tliiuk you, 
will it require for her to learn, by a few well-directed efforts 
on your part, how to put the needle in at proper distances, 
taking up only just so many threads for a stitch 1 

" Why, she is only a baby ; but little past three years. 
Teach her ! How preposterous ! You must be — " 

Growing imbecile, you think. Very likely ; but these 
ideas are no indication of it. They are good, solid common- 
sense, we think ; such as our mothers and grandmothers 
acted upon, in the olden times, when early teaching and 
genuine industry were fashionable ; when there were more 
busy bees to " improve each shining hour " of childhood ; 
when these first years, which were then passed in " books 
and work and healthful play," were a thousand times more 
childlike and happier than our days of modern improve- 
ment. Now, the toddling wee things are carried in the 
nurses' arms to infant parties, dressed and flounced and 
frizzed, until every vestige of simple cliildhood is lost in 
8* L 



178 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS, 

their painfully ludicrous efforts to imitate their more foolisli 
elders, — kept up far beyond a healthful bedtime, and fed 
with food injurious even to mature stomachs, but ruinous to 
a child's digestion. Ah, dear little woman ! will it be a 
harder task, requiring more skill and patience, to take your 
little girl on your lap, ten or fifteen minutes every day, and 
show her how to hold and use the needle ; taking the warm, 
soft, innocent little hands, with loving caresses, into yours, 
and guiding the tiny fingers, until at last she learns to put 
the needle through the cloth, at proper distances, unaided ; 
will this be harder or more tiresome than to dress and worry 
over your little one till she is drilled in dancing, taught to 
bow and covirtesy, and gracefully accept her baby partner's 
hand in the dance 1 Will it give you no pain to see the first 
development of envy, jealousy, and ill temper forced into 
active growth under such training ? Compare this toil and 
responsibility with the soft and loving prattle of your little 
girl, as she nestles in your lap, and, with merry laugh, watches 
the bright needle go to and fro ; and when at last she 
masters one stitch, and you pronounce it ivell done, will not 
her shout of triumph repay the teacher's trouble 1 Will it 
any longer be a work to dread 1 On the contrary, will you 
not look forward to that daily lesson as the sweetest duty of 
the day ? 

" All this sounds very pretty ; but when we come to the 
reality, — the big stitches, the long stitches, the puckers and 
gathers, the mistakes and vexatious carelessness, — how many 
yards of cloth will be Avasted before one inch of decent 
sewing can be accomplished by a little child '? " 

'Not one. Cut out a little block of patchwork. Tell the 
child that she may make a quilt for her doll's bed just as 
soon as she can do it Avell. Use pretty, bright colors. Take 
her on your lap, and show her hoAV a stitch must be taken, 
making merry, gentle speeches to her as the Avork goes on. 



TEACHING LITTLE GIRLS SO SEW. 179 

"See, pet, you must take up two of these threads on that 
side,- and put your needle through two more on the other 
side, then pull the needle through ; that 's one stitch ; 
mamma did that. Now let's see the little gi)i take one just 
like it. No, no ; let mamma hold y(jur hand steady. There, 
that 's right. Now you may try again. 8ee, you have taken 
up a leetle too much on that side. We '11 just pull that out, 
1 think, and try again. It was pretty well, but a little bit 
longer than the last, and I guess Dolly won't quite like it ; 
so we '11 pull it out, and be very careful next time. There, 
that 's my little woman ! You have made three nice 
stitches, and we will put up the sewing now, and run out 
doors to play. When papa comes home, mamma will have 
to show these pretty stitches, and he will be very much 
pleased." In this way, it will not be many weeks before 
the square for Dolly's small bed will be finished, and you 
will say, " My little daughter has done it so very nicely, I 
think we will have to make another, and piece the two to- 
gether to make a bigger quilt." Before a year passes, we 
are sure you will have a quilt large enough for your little 
girl's own bed, every stitch well done, and both mother and 
child drawn closer together and made happier by each day's 
lessons. It is, we think, a great mistake while teaching a 
child to sew, to pass over very poor work, simply because 
you think after awhile she will learn to do better ; and you 
will throw the few early attempts aside, rather than be at the 
trouble of picking out imperfect stitches. Only a half-inch, 
or three or four stitches a day, well done, is a great gain. 
Be gentle, but very firm. Do not drill the child till it be- 
comes weary, and will shrink from a second trial ; but yet, 
let it be well understood that every stitch must be perfect 
before it Avill be accepted, and then be lavish of praise when 
the effort is successful. Do not destroy the child's first tvork, 
thus carefully done. It will give you much pleasure when 



180 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

your daughter has become a woman, and be invaluable to 
her as an evidence of your faithful teachings when you are 
forever hid from her eyes. 



XLIV. 
THE CARE OF POULTRY. 

WE make no pretense to any great skill or experience 
in raising poultry, and may not be able to furnish 
satisfactory answers to questions which have been sent by 
some of our readers who appear wellnigh discouraged by 
repeated failures ; but we venture a few suggestions which, 
if acted upon, will, we think, in part at least, overcome some 
portion of their difficulties and perplexities, and may be ac- 
ceptable to others in their first attempt. 

The agricultural papers are filled with descriptions and rec- 
ommendations of many fanciful, and, no doubt, very excellent, 
heneries and poultry-yards. We have very little acquaintance, 
however, with these modern improvements. The feAv we have 
seen do not excite our enthusiasm, and we cannot see that the 
income or gain in any degree compensates for the extra expend- 
iture. We do not learn that Nero's horses were much bene- 
fited when fed on golden oats and shod with shoes of the 
same precious metal ; nor do we believe hens sheltered in 
sumptuous palaces will be more productive than our Leg- 
horns and Cochins. But each one has a right to his own 
peculiar fancies ; we are speaking now to those who have 
not yet found time or means to build fancy heneries, but 
content themselves with more simple arrangements. 

We think it important, if possible, to have a good yard 
and commodious hen-house, in which laying, setting, and 



THE CARE OF POULTRY. 181 

roosting apartments can be kept separate. These conveni- 
ences cannot always be secured as ample and. pleasant as is 
desirable ; but however simple the accommodations may be, 
it is indispensable that the budding be kept scrupulously 
clean if you would insure success. The roost requires the 
most care. It should be swept out once a week, the poles 
and sides being well brushed off with a stiff broom, and 
the loose feathers and droppings from under the poles col- 
lected in barrels, removed from the hen-house, and kept dry. 
It is an excellent manure or guano, and very valuable when 
well composted. 

The same care is needed in the laying and setting rooms. 
It is wise, once a week, to take all the straw from the 
nests, brush the boxes out clean, and replenish with 
fresh straw. A little ashes or a few bits of charcoal put 
under the straw helps to keep the nests sweet. The old 
straw and filth should be put on the compost heap. In the 
setting apartment the nests must not be disturbed till the 
eggs are all hatched, and the little chicks, with their mother, 
removed. Then the box must be emptied, well washed, 
dried, and whitewashed, ready for a new occupant. 

It takes time and some trouble to keep the hen-house and 
yard always clean ; but it Avell repays the trouble, and, if 
weU done every week, Avill really take less time than to have 
a grand clearing up once or twice a year. These clearing 
days in dwellings or outbuildings are great nuisances and 
torments, making every one cross and uncomfortable ; but if 
in each department it is understood that everything must 
always be put into its appropriate place, and that once a 
week the whole is to be tidied up, the most careless, if once 
tempted to try the experiment, would be astonished at the 
increased ease of the labor, and the pleasure would cer- 
tainly be fourfold. 

Every fall and spring and once at least during the sum- 



182 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

mer the birds should all be turned out of the house and 
yard, that the inside of the building may be well smoked 
Mdth sulphur, and then thoroughly Avhitewashed, to secure 
the destruction of the vermin and the good health of the 
occupants. A day should be selected when no hens are sit- 
ting, and then some charcoal must be kindled in an old tin or 
pan kept for the purpose in each compartment, and some bits 
of sulphur sprinkled over the coals when well burning. This 
done, shut the doors and windows tightly, and leave the 
sidphur to burn out, which it will do in a few hours ; then 
throw open the doors and windo^7s and let in the air. After 
this, every part must be weU whitewashed, filling all cracks, 
holes, or corners ivith the wash, — particularly the nests or 
boxes for the laying and sitting hens. Sprinkle a few small 
bits of charcoal in the nests, when dry, to keep them sweet ; 
fill them with fresh straw, and recall the fowls to their clean 
home. 

A box or bin of wood-ashes should be placed in one 
corner of the roosting apartment, and kept always filled, and 
free from filth, for poultry to roU in and free themselves from 
vermin as far as possible. 

The roost should be made so that the poles can be raised 
or let down at pleasure. In the winter, have the poles 
raised as high as may be, as the heat ascends, and the fowls 
need as warm a place as possible for winter. In summer, 
lower the roost, that they may sleep where the air circulates 
freely. If possible, provide a good roomy yard back of the 
hen-house, where the hens may have ample space to range. 
Plums do well in such yards, and the hens do much toward 
destroying the curculio. Old pans or wooden troughs filled 
with water must be kept in the yard, that the hens may have 
drink at all times. If you have plenty of skim-milk or 
buttermilk, they Avill be grateful for all you can spare, and 
show their gratitude -by the increase of their daily offerings. 



THE CARE OF POULTRY. 183 

Heaps of old plaster or oyster-shells must be kept in dif- 
ferent parts of the yard ; if part of the shells can be burned 
and pounded, it will be better. Any slops from the house 
will be of great beneht ; and if no pigs are kept, everything 
that is thrown into the " swill-pail," not salt, can be used to 
advantage. Keep all water in which potatoes and vegetables 
are boiled ; throw their paruigs or skins into it, and after 
each meal put in all refuse bits, bring this water to a boil, 
stir in a handful or two of coarse meal, and in winter feed it 
to the hens warm, and you will find it very acceptable and 
profitable. Every scrap of fresh meat, soup bones, but no 
salt meat, Avill do them good. If near a butcher's shop, he 
will sell you for a few pennies, or give you, the " lights " or the 
head of one of the animals. Chop it up and throw it into 
the poultry-yard. Worms and grasshoppers will help them 
througli the summer months ; but they must have something 
in the way of fresh meat in winter. Every morning and 
evening scatter cracked or whole corn about the yard iii a 
clean place. In picking it up, they will take with it a little 
gravel, which is very necessary to keep them healthy. 

In many cases it is not convenient or thought necessary 
to provide a hen-house and yard, all the poultry being 
allowed to roam at will over the premises. A little care will 
train them to keep from doing any great mischief in the 
gardens ; but you must not expect too much ; if yoii have 
grapes, currants, or small fruit, these will be too tempting for 
a hen's nature to resist, and, in the end, it will be found to 
be worth considerable sacrifice of time and money to place 
them out of the reach of temptation. Besides, if they are 
allowed to roam, you cannot track their nests at all times, and 
you will be left without an egg in the house when most 
needed. With very little care, and by selecting the best and 
most reliable breeds, this need never happen where hens are 
kept in an inclosure and with a suitable house. The pure 



184 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Leghorns molt but six weeks in the year, — in November 
and December. If they bring out their broods the first of 
April, the puUets will begin to lay in October, just as their 
mothers begin to molt. If hatched in August or early Sep- 
tember, they will lay by the first of April ; so that part of 
the hens will be laying all the time. Some people kill off 
their hens as soon as the puUets begin to lay, thus having no 
molting fowls on their premises ; but we think this foolish. 
The second year's eggs are usually larger, and a hen may be 
kept profitably for three or four years. Our own experi- 
ments lead us to think the White Leghorns and Cochins the 
best layers. 



XLY. 

INSTITUTIONS FOR THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN. 

YASSAR is, we think, the first college for women ever 
established. The liberal provision for its mainte- 
nance, in accordance with the wishes of the founder, — 
the chapel, library, cabinet, recitation-rooms ; the houses 
for the professors ; the dormitories for the students ; the 
dining-hall and kitchen ; the laundry and the bakehouse, — 
every needed accommodation, are all completed in the most 
approved manner. The whole is heated by steam, and 
lighted by gas. Here physical culture receives all the care 
that modern science and experience can give. A floral gar- 
den is managed by the young ladies. Gymnastic exercises, 
horseback riding, driving, boating, or skating have their full 
share of encouragement and attention. The whole establish- 
ment and its arrangements are most excellent, securing a 
suitable amount of exercise to insure good health, and 
also clear heads for the hours devoted to study. 



INSTITUTIONS FOR THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN. 185 

But in this generous provision for accomplishments for 
our young daughters, and thorough training in all healthful 
exercise, there seems to have been one department entirely 
overlooked, which certainly demands a large share of atten- 
tion, and where, we think, faithful instruction in the rudi- 
ments should, in connection with other departments, begin 
in the earliest and most simple lessons, with the full under- 
standing that it must go hand in hand with other branches 
through the whole course. We mean a full and most thor- 
ough instruction in all that belongs to domestic economy 
and household lore. 

The preparatory instruction and full collegiate course, in 
a girl's education, should embrace more years than are 
thought necessary to prepare a boy to graduate and enter 
upon the duties of manhood, because we are sure our girls' 
minds are overburdened by an attempt to crowd too many 
studies into each year, thus keeping them constantly hur- 
ried and overtaxed. They have many things to do Avhile in 
school that boys are not expected to do, or, at any rate, 
which they never undertake. No young lady, we trust, 
would sit down to her studies, in the morning, until her 
room was neatly put in order. Many little touches are 
needed to secure this, which they cannot depend upon a cham- 
ber or parlor maid to do well, and which it Avould not be 
consistent with womanly neatness to leave undone. Tlien a 
girl has her wardrobe to watch over ; rips to mend, but- 
tons to replace, and numerous other things which a boy has 
done for him or leaves undone. In girlhood as in later 
life, woman's duties are more complex and varied than man's. 
There are so many little things, insignificant in themselves, 
but of wonderful importance, in that skillful combination 
which must be woven together to make the perfect whole in 
a woman's character, that it is unsafe to skim lightly over 
any. Some items appear very trifling and unimportant, 



18G MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

when Bot viewed as connecting links, without whose aid the 
whole noble structure must be incomplete. 

ISTo one can tell, while the process of constructing and 
perfecting is going on, through what deep and stormy waters 
the precious bark, once launched, may be compelled to force 
its way. Therefore it is wise, in laying the foundations, to 
be sure that no timber, screw, or rivet, however insignificant it 
may seem at the time, has been discarded or insecurely fastened. 

Even if it could be guarantied that most of the young 
ladies who graduate from our excellent seminaries would 
never be placed in a position where they might find it con- 
venient, if not necessary, to labor to secure home comforts, 
or prepare food for husband or children, yet there is no 
place free from care, where it would not be more conducive 
to comfort and happiness for the mistress, not only to know 
thoroughly what was proper to be done about the bouse, but 
also to know how to do it herself, should it ever be necessary. 
To know how to do it well will do no harm ; not knowing 
how may sometimes subject one to great discomfort and 
mortification. 

"We once called on a lady of great wealth. Her establish- 
ment and style of living demanded a large retinue of ser- 
vants, who received the highest wages. There had just been 
some disturbance among her servants. The cook, receiving 
forty dollars a month, imagined that her subordinate in the 
kitchen did not render her the proper assistance. She, the 
sub-cook, was quite above such service as was exacted, 
Neither would yield, and both left. The waitress, laundress, 
and nurse had been nursing a feud for some time, which 
only needed this explosion in the kitchen and the atmos- 
phere it engendered to develop the final catastrophe. The 
noise and smoke of the battle had but just subsided when 
we rang the bell, which was answered by the lady her- 
self with a laughing, happy face, in no wise ruffled by this 



INSTITUTIONS FOR THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN. 187 

unusual state of things. After our errand was done, she was 
led by it to tell us a merry story of the day's experience. 

" And what will you do now I " 

" 0, I have sent my dressing maid to the nursery, sent 
the seamstress to look for others to replace the deserters, and 
the coachman to market. I will attend the door till they 
return, and then I mean to surprise my husband on his re- 
turn with a dinner of my own cooking. Mother used to let 
me plo-y cook sometimes when I was young. She thought 
every girl should at least know how to get a dinner. I 
learned a good deal then which I think I have not forgotten, 
and I owe it to her that this little disturbance, the first I 
have had, does n't trouble me at all." 

To be sure, those who keep but one or two servants will 
think that she had but little to disturb her while a dressing- 
maid, seamstress, and coachman were on hand. But we 
think those who keep the greatest number of servants are 
the most to be pitied, and when changes come it requires 
much patience and some skill to rearrange those who re- 
main, if one extra step is demanded of them. 

We know two little girls whose mother is training them 
to meet such inconvenient changes when they are women, in 
the same independent spirit. They have a large-sized toy 
cool-inff-stove, but one in which they can make real pies, as the 
little ladies say, and real bread and real cake can be made on it, 
though of liliputian size. The stove is kept in mother's 
room, the pipe passing into the nursery flue. They have a 
little molding-board and rolling pin, and aU needed imple- 
ments on a small scale, and no richer reward can be given 
than to be allowed to bake a cake, or something of their 
own making, to be placed on the family table. Of course 
they work lender mother's eye and by her instructions, and 
in later years these little girls will thank their mother for 
this early teaching. 



188 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

This playing cook is an easy and pleasant way of teaching 
Httle girls the first lessons, and if, as in other days, they 
were fully taught at home the very important accomplish- 
ment of housekeeping by their mothers, there wovdd be no 
necessity for a union of domestic and intellectual institutions 
in our schools and seminaries ; but, unfortunately, very few, 
comparatively, of the mothers of the present day have 
health to teach their daughters as thoroughly as would be 
satisfactory or available ; or, if health be given, the dispo- 
sition to devote their time and attention to the matter is 
wanting. For this reason we see no better way than to have 
this part of our girls' education incorporated, if possible, 
with the other branches taught in schools and colleges, so 
that sewing, sweeping, washing, and cooking — - aU minutia? 
of household knowledge — may be as fully taught as reading, 
writing, or the so-called higher studies ; or, if this union is 
not possible, at least the domestic education might be made a 
supplementary course, — the scholars understanding that no 
one can " graduate " until she has passed through that de- 
partment. 

We fear the good old times of mother-teaching -v\dll not 
very soon be revived, and our idea of uniting this important 
part of woman's education with that which is.thought higher 
and more intellectual arose from the impression that, if not 
in some way instructed in home duties, our girls in the 
course of four or five years of sedentary life would acquire a 
distaste for more active employment, or, having destroyed 
their health by injurious and long-continued apphcation, 
would be utterly incapacitated for it. 

We offer these suggestions in the hope that the attention 
of some of our progressive spirits may be called to this sub- 
ject with more eff'ective earnestness than has been shown. 



GREAT MISTAKES. 189 

XLVI. 

GREAT MISTAKES. 

'TT'T'HEN tliG weatlier becomes so warm that furnaces 
VV and large fires can be dispensed with, the regular 
" spring cleaning " is usually commenced in earnest. Until 
then, the most perfect housekeeper cannot prevent the accu- 
mulation of ashes or fine dust, which, ascending from the 
furnace or stove below with each morning's renewal, will 
find a lodgment in carpets- and furniture, and can be fully- 
removed only by a longer process than can be given weekl3\ 
"Were it not that the carpets and furniture would be utterly 
ruined by the insensible deposit of dust and ashes in the 
winter, and by flies, spiders, damps, and mold of the sum- 
mer, which by fall have been too much for the most vigi- 
lant care, the great domestic terror over which gentlemen so 
pathetically lament — a general " house-cleaning " — could 
easily be dispensed with. Without those special troubles, 
we could get along, by good management, with but very lit- 
tle general disturbance of the regidar routine of household 
cares, and no derangement of family comfort but what the 
most fastidious could patiently and cheerfully submit to. 

The last touch to the perfect purification of the house, in 
the estimation of many notable housekeepers, is to have the 
fireplace or grate brightly polished, and the bricks on the 
back and sides either whitewashed or painted (slate, drab, 
or some neutral color), and this once satisfactorily accom- 
plished, they are very sensitive if any wish is expressed to 
have a fire kindled again before fall, preferring to risk 
fevers or any of the malarial troubles so likely to result 
from damp or cool nights and mornings, rather than see 



190 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

their clean, nicely painted grates blackened by the action of 
fire. 

l^ow, we cannot but think this is a great mistake. So 
much sickness and suffering may, we are convinced, be pre- 
vented by kindling a small fire every night and morning, 
that all pleasure in the beauty of fresh, pretty-colored grates 
and fireplaces is lost in the knowledge of the price paid for 
it, ■ A well blackened grate has more attractions for us, as it 
speaks of dry rooms, rosy cheeks, and good health, whereas 
unused and spotless bricks tell of rheumatism, chills and 
fever, and pale, sallow faces. 

We first learned the great importance of these morning 
and evening fires at the West, and should have been thank- 
ful to have learned it by an easier way than through the 
rough school of experience. What was a good theory and 
better practice in the new Western life is equally beneficial 
in any locality where cool nights and mornings precede and 
follow each day, or where sudden changes from dry to damp 
or rainy weather may be expected. It is not at all necessary 
or wise in warm weather to build large fires that will heat a 
room. Only so much is needed as will suffice to dispel the 
chill damp of the atmosphere, of which one is usually con- 
scious on entering a room early in the morning or soon after 
nightfall. A few sticks of light wood or a small fagot of 
brush will suffice. In the city it is not always easy to find 
material for this purpose ; but in the country, whether in an 
old place or new, there is no difficulty, and no excuse for 
neglect. Small sticks, and any quantity of brush, from con- 
stantly needed repairs or pruning, are always scattered about, 
which, if not daily gathered up, will soon accumulate, tiU 
heaps of unsightly rubbish will meet the eye at every turn. 
If only for the sake of neatness, and to save time, all this 
should be daily removed. It is not much labor, and a very 
short time is sufficient. If you have young boys or girls 



GREAT MISTAKES. 191 

with you, rightly trained to be useful, an hour or two of out- 
door labor wull give them pleasant and healthful occupation. 
Provide them with a child's saw-horse and saw, a small, 
light hatchet, and a ball of strings, and let them daily go out 
and collect such brush as may be lying around. Show them 
how to cut it in proper lengths, and to tie the fagots neatly. 
Then they can easily, with a light wheelbarrow, take them 
to the wood-house or shed, and pile them ready for use. A 
half-hour's or an hour's work every day will do this, and the 
young follvs will not feel it a burden. But if left a week or 
two, the brush becomes tangled, the heap grows larger, and 
what should be only pleasant recreation becomes a burden, 
perhaps really too heavy for children to undertake, and either 
a man's time must be given to the work, or industry and 
labor be made repulsive to the young. That is also a great 
mistake. But by having this work regularly done, at certain 
hours daily, by your children, a threefold good may be gained : 
the house, grounds, and surroundings can be kept free from 
disagreeable litter ; the means secured at the same time, with 
little labor and no cost, to preserve a healthful atmosphere 
all through the house ; and your children taught a lesson in 
neatness and industry which they will not in after years for- 
get, and which, whatever their position in life, will always 
be valuable. 

Wliile among the pines and palmettos in the newly set- 
tled parts of Florida, we looked with envious eyes on the 
" fat wood," as it is called, which lies around the clearings 
in the greatest abundance. A few small sticks from these pine 
knots, at the first touch of a match, start into a wonderfully 
bright flame, before which, while it lasts, the light of our best 
kerosene lamps is obscured, and the morning and evening 
dampness is expelled, so that comfortable but not heated air 
is secured. We were pleased to see in these brilliant fires, 
regularly kindled, strong proof of good common-sense. 



192 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

We believe fuU half the sickness which abounds in newly 
settled countries or in malarial districts could bo entirely pre- 
vented by this easy, sirai^le practice. At any rate, it would 
certainly be quite as effectual as the innumerable and abomina- 
ble doses which each section of country accepts as the only 
cure ; and it would have the advantage of being a pleasant 
remedy, warranted not to produce some disease far worse 
than the first. 

Another great mistake is the exclusion of sunlight from 
our houses. We have spoken of this some time since, and 
wish the importance of admitting the light of the sun freely, 
as well as building these early and late fires, could be prop- 
erly impressed upon our housekeepers. No article of furni- 
ture should ever be brought to our homes too good or too 
delicate for the sun to see aU day long. His presence should 
never be excluded, except when so bright as to be uncom- 
fortable to the eyes. And a walk in good, bright sunlight, be- 
fore the heat is too intense, is very beneficial, so that the eyes 
are protected by veil or parasol when the light is inconven- 
iently strong. A sun-hath is of far more importance in preserv- 
ing a healthful condition of the body than is generally under- 
stood. A sun-bath costs nothing, and that is a misfortune, for 
people are deluded with the idea that those things only can 
be good or useful which cost money. But remember that 
pure water, fresh air, sunlight, and homes kept free from 
dampness, will secure you from many heavy bills of the doc- 
tors, and give you health and vigor, which no money can 
procure. It is a weU-established fact that people who live 
much in the sun are usually stronger and more healthy than 
those whose occupations deprive them of sunlight. 



STUDY TO MAKE HOME ATTKACTIVE. 193 

XLVIL 
STUDY TO MAKE HOME ATTRACTIVE. 

IN planning and furnishing a house, young people too 
often sacrifice true taste and their own conscience for 
style ; forgetting that they should arrange a home for com- 
fort, not for a temple of fashion. So large a portion of the 
money set apart for the whole outlay is expended in adorn- 
ing their parlors, — the only part of a house which is, in a 
measure, public property, - — that they are compelled to cheat 
themselves out of much comfort and convenience, when they 
come to the furnishing of the real home, or family rooms, 
unless possessed of wealth so abundant that expense be- 
comes a secondary consideration. We think the family sitting 
and dining rooms shoidd receive more thought and care than 
any other part of the house. Neatness, of course, should be 
preserved everywhere, and the parlors be furnished with as 
much of style and fashion as your means will warrant your 
expending to meet your own desires, or in deference to public 
opinion, if you are at all inclined to cater to its gratification. 
In your chambers study neatness and convenience, and also 
in the kitchen ; but when you turn to the sitting and dining 
rooms, give yourself abundance of time to deliberate over 
everything connected with these apartments, and, after due 
consideration, begin the work, which, if rightly understood, 
will be a toil of pleasure, — a labor of love, never ending ; 
because every week some pretty device or fanciful change or 
addition will occur to you, by which you can add' to its sim- 
ple attractions, thereby giving yourself great pleasure, and 
filling your heart with happy thoughts. From the tone of 
the letter and question prompting this chapter, we should 

9 M 



194 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

not class its writer with those who desire a position among 
the " fashionables," whose greatest pleasure lies in parties, 
balls, and theaters, or a ceaseless round of " calls," and who 
would be made perfectly miserable if compelled by any cir- 
cumstance to pass a quiet evening at home, with nobody hxd 
their husband. For such there is no home. That word be- 
longs to an unknown tongue, which their hearts can never 
interpret. 

We are not at all in sympathy with those who take it for 
granted that the husband is always the most to be blamed, 
if the club-house or any outside companionship has more 
attractions than his own home. When the " twain are made 
one flesh," if the union is consummated through love, and 
not from mercenary reasons, the heart of the husband will be 
drawn most naturally, in his leisure hours, toward the com- 
panion he has chosen from aU others ; and in these early 
days it rests chiefly with her to make all the surroundings 
of the home committed to her care so attractive that his 
steps turn thitherward, because nowhere else can he secure 
such true comfort and solid happiness. Having so begun, if 
you continue thus to cast your spells about him, here in this 
pleasant sitting-room, young wife, he will always prefer to 
spend his leisure hours where your skill and taste make it 
more bright and restful than any other resort can be. Now, 
in the earliest days of your wedded life, before other cares 
engross your time and thoughts, you have the opportunity 
to make home a word of sacred meaning, to learn its true na- 
ture yourself, and to gather around it associations that shall be 
lasting, and a safeguard through life. 

It is not by the " great sacrifices," or " heroic devotion," 
which you speak of, that this blessing can be secured ; but 
by little things — daily acts — the work must be begun and 
the building established on a firra foundation. Bear this in 
mind constantly wliile planning the room, selecting the fur- 



STUDY TO MAKE HOME ATTRACTIVE. 195 

niture, aiid arranging the many trifles that, combined, make 
a sitting-room peculiarly attractive. Secure, if possible, a 
southern or eastern lookout, or both united. Select pictures 
that are home-like, even if not the elaborate work of some 
great artist ; those do not always give the greatest pleasure. 
Flowers and vines about the room or in the windows add 
wonderfully to the cheerfulness of any room, and to this 
particularly. Have neat, white shades to exclude the sun 
partially during the mid-day hours, and outside blinds to 
keep curiosity from sharing your evening enjoyments. A 
book and piano are always desirable in a family room, even 
if you have a grand piano for your parlors. Select the 
easiest and most comfortable lounges and chairs, taking time 
to look in several manufactories before you decide ; for hard, 
unyielding sofas and chairs are only fit for show or torture 
rooms. A commodious table for books, and gas or lamps, 
suitable for writing, with convenient drawers to hold all 
necessary writing-material, and your own work-stand in the 
corner, are essential. These are always useful and conven- 
ient ; but it is not needful that we go into elaborate specifica- 
tions. Your own taste and love, if you set about the work 
in the right spirit, will teach you better than any one else 
can do. Arrange the necessary articles and all the em- 
belhshments with care and thought, so that when you stand 
at the door and survey the work, the room shall lie before 
you like a picture, speaking of cheerfulness, rest, and com- 
fort. Here, if you show your husband, from the first, that 
you are always interested in his outside labors and duties, he 
will gladly come to talk over the day's doings ; and it will 
not take long to teach him that a good, true wife is the best 
adviser he can have, — that his business knowledge and your 
womanly insight and tact, united, will solve dubious questions, 
and unravel troublesome tangles, quite as safely and far more 
pleasantly than any assistance and advice sought outside of 



19G MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

home. And in after life, think you, will it not be pleasant 
to look back and trace much of your happiness to the fasci- 
nations and attractions you so skillfully gathered about the 
pleasant sitting-room, when you, as " young people," took 
sweet counsel together, and laid the foundation for mutual 
confidence and true domestic peace ? Had you secured the 
most elegant parlors, but left this room cold and barren, neg- 
ligently kept, and destitute of any special attraction, do 
you think your prospects of happiness would have been as 
bright 1 Or can you feel that you would deserve that 
they should be 1 It is your work, young wife, to make the 
hom,e. Your husband may provide and furnish the means, 
but it is for you to see that they are used for mutual happi- 
ness. 

Next to the sitting-room, the dining-room must be the most 
carefully arranged. Strange how few give heed to this ! It is 
sometimes a low, dark, ill-constructed room, reached by stairs 
often unsafe by reason of darkness, and usually opening so 
abruptly to the kitchen that the appetite is destroyed the 
moment you enter by the fumes from cooking which have 
been gathering in the dining-room all the morning ; and the 
pleasant intercourse which should enliven each meal is often 
sadly interrupted by overmuch talking from the adjacent 
kitchen. If there ever is dispute or misfortune there, it 
seems always destined to occur while you are at your table. 
Our city dining-rooms are too frequently after this pattern. 
Here is some excuse ; for we must expect, in one way or an- 
other, to be " cabined, cribbed, and confined " in the city ; but 
in the free, bright country, there can seldom be any such ex- 
cuse given, and yet the same heedlessness with regard to any- 
thing pleasant in the position of the dining-room is notice- 
able. Opening into a back yard or clothes-yard, or overlooking 
the barn-yard, with nothing attractive or cheerful, — this is 
thought good enough for a place to feed in. A very great 



STUDY TO MAKE HOME ATTRACTIVE. 197 

mistake ; for here we shoiild meet, not to eat hastily, and 
rise up and go our ways, biit there should be quite as much 
enjoyment in free and cheerful conversation at the table as 
can possibly be secured during the mere act of eating. A 
friend occasionally drops in ; and when children are gath- 
ered about the board, their little winning ways and delight- 
ful prattle add wonderfully to the pleasure of the repast. 
Our American men, when actively engaged in business, as a 
large proportion of them are, often find the breakfast and 
dinner hours the only parts of the day when they can see 
their children. It is time little folks were asleep, generally, 
before the father closes his labors and returns home for tea. 
For that reason, if for no other, the dining-room, in every 
family, as being the place where, except on Sunday, the chil- 
dren will have the best opportunity of seeing their father, 
should be made bright, cheerful, and peculiarly attractive ; 
because it will be more closely associated in their minds with 
his presence. As they grow older, they should be taught to 
give their aid in arranging fruit and flowers for the decoration 
of the table and side- board before each meal, "because papa 
will soon be here." 

You may think these are all such little things, that you 
cannot conceive it possible they should be of much im- 
portance in arranging a house, or making home happy, 
and will probably feel that your question has been unsatis- 
factorily answered. But, dear " young wife," believe me, it is 
by little things that you must make the house, now commit- 
ted to your charge, a happy one, and so attractive to your 
husband that he can have no wish to seek pleasure elsewhere. 
It is not by any great effort once in a while, but by tlie con- 
stant, daily evidence of your thoughtfulness and care, that 
you will secure the confidence and companionship you are so 
earnestly desiring and seeking after. 



198 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG UOUSEKEEPEUS. 

XLVITI. 

THE CAKE OF COOKING-STOVES AND RANGES. 

NEXT to perplexities and trouble with servants, there 
is nothing that so severely afflicts the careful house- 
keeper as the attempt to secure attention to the cooking-stove 
or range. The reasons given for failure in any particular point 
are innumerahle, and all cast the burden of blame on the 
poor, inoffensive stove. There never was such a miserable 
cooking-stove. The fire won't burn, or it burns too fiercely ; 
the oven won't bake at all, or bakes so furiously that every- 
thing you trust to it is ruined. It smokes, or the gas escapes, 
and fills the house with the offensive odors ; it burns out more 
coal in one day than should be used in two ; the dampers 
are useless, or the grate cannot be turned over. There is 
scarcely a defect to be imagined but is charged to this neces- 
sary evil, — the cooking-stove or range. 

In part, no doubt, these ceaseless annoyances spring from 
the heedlessness or ignorance of the servants, but more fre- 
quently, we think, it is because the mistress herself does not 
understand the cause of the difficulty, or how to point out 
and remedy the mistakes. It is impossible to expect a girl 
will be successful in managing the fire and stove unless you 
are competent and willing to give her full instruction, and are 
also ready to follow this up with constant daily supervision, 
until time and a faithful trial convince you that the subject 
is fully understood, and your injunctions regularly followed. 
Even then watch, with all kindness and patience, not with a 
fault-finding spirit, but because carelessness and forgetfulness 
are bound up in the heart of almost every servant, and cease- 
less vigilance is your only protection from mistakes of the 



THE CARE OF COOKING-STOVES AND RANGES. 199 

most mortifying and vexatious character ; and do you not 
know that such trials always come at the most unexpected 
and inconvenient time 1 No doubt there are occasionally 
servants found, or heard of, who are faithful, careful, compe- 
tent, and safe to be trusted in every particular ; but they 
are, " like angels' visits, few and far between " ; and it is 
wise for every housekeeper to be as exact in her explanations, 
and as watchful in seeing them executed, as if she knew her 
girl was totally ignorant of everything about the stove or 
range, until well convinced that she fully understands and 
regularly carries out her mistress's lessons. Then, if she fails, 
it is safe to look upon the failure as culpable negligence, for 
which it would be very difficult to find a reasonable excuse. 
Simply telling a servant how you wish the stove managed, 
or anytliing else done, is by no means sufficient. To say to 
the new cook, " Bridget, I wish you to be very particular in 
cleaning out your range or stove every night before retiring, 
and have your kindlings and coal aU laid ready to start a fire 
in the morning," will not secure obedience. The answer 
V, ill doubtless be, " yes, mem, I always do that." Per- 
haps once in a great while you may find a cook that will do 
this regularly ; for it certainly, if they wiU only try it, is the 
easiest way. But take nothing on trust. See with your 
own eyes before you retire how much this ahvays means. 
Too often it should be translated, " when it suits my con- 
venience." Perhaps for a short time it may be done in 
accordance with your wishes ; but keep open eyes, or nine 
times ovit of ten, in less than a month, you will be told, " I 
can't do anjiihing with the range or stove." " Have you 
thoroughly cleaned it out each night as I directed 1 " " O 
, yes, mem ; of course I have." N"ow, either go to work your- 
self and see what is the matter, which is the best way, or 
send for a man from a stove manufactory to examine. Stand 
by with the cook to see the results of his examination. Of 



200 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

course the lire must be all out before he can do anything. 
He will then remove every cover from the top, and most likely 
find the whole surface perfectly clogged up with small bits 
of coal and piles of ashes, so that the draught is obstructed ; 
or, if the difficulty does not lie there mainly, he will take out 
the slide to the pit under the oven, and, notwithstanding 
cook's assurances that it is regtJarly cleaned out, you will find 
it filled with ashes up to the oven bottom ; or the grate has 
been so imperfectly emptied and cleaned that it is broken, 
and clogged with clinlcers, leaving hardly room to make a 
fire in it. I^ow you have the whole mystery solved. All 
the girl's protestations and assurances of great care in keep- 
ing the stove in perfect order cannot longer bhnd your eyes. 
A few such examples may not insure cook's future attention 
and truthfulness, but they will teach you, that as the foot 
of the master is the only warrant for large crops on a farm, 
or successful operations in any pursuit, so the eye and hand 
of the mistress must ever be most vigilant and effective to 
secure comfort in the house. 

There is no one convenience on which so large a part of 
house comfort depends as on a good cooking-apparatxis, 
whether in the form of stove or range ; and however perfect 
the patent, nothing can so easily be put out of working 
order by careless management. Before starting a new fire, 
examine if the stove has been thoroughly cleaned from the 
last one ; then open the dampers ; roll up and put into the 
grate a few pieces of paper, — or some shavings, if you can 
have them, are still better ; lay lightly on this some splinters 
or small bits of kindling wood. Do not throw them on in 
a heavy mass, but so arrange them as to give free breathing- 
holes ; on this foundation put a few larger pieces of pine 
kindling, and if you are hurried, and need a quick, bright 
fire, sprinkle over a small shovelful of cohe, if you have it. 
JSTothing kindles quicker than coke. ISTow replace all the 



THE CARE OF COOKING-STOVES AND RANGES. 201 

covers, and set tiro to the paper with a match, held under- 
neath the grate. If lighted from ahove, it must be, of course, 
before the covers are put on, and that tills the kitchen with 
smoke. When the wood is well blazing, before at all wasted, 
take off the covers and cross-piece (the paper will have 
Inirned out by that time, and little smoke will trouble you), 
and pour on the hard coal, scattering it evenly at the sides, 
but a little heaped or rounded in the center. Be careful that 
the grate is not filled above the fire-brick. This is a very 
important consideration, for if heaped above, it injures the 
stove, burning out the iron-work, and obstructing the draught, 
so that the coal cannot kindle readily, but wastes and smol- 
ders without doing much good. As soon as the coal is well 
kindled, close the draughts, or dampers, and you will have a 
clear, serviceable fire. It is a great mistake to use a large 
amount of paper or kindling. The paper, when burnt out, 
makes a smothering, black kind of ashes, that deadens the 
fire, and the pine kindling, if used too profusely, fills the 
stove with so much bituminous smoke as to clog the pipes 
needlessly. 

"When your breakfast is dished and sent to the table, tell 
the cook to raise a cover from the stove, and see if it would 
not be well to add a small shovelful of coal to keep the fire 
in good working order ; but it will not be necessary to open 
the draughts until the breakfast is over and the dishes washed 
and pu.t away. When that is done, it will be time to begin 
arrangements for dinner, and then the draiights should be 
opened a few minutes, and the fire raked down or shaken, so 
as to remove all the ashes ; but ov, no account stir it from 
the top ; that kills the fire, turning the coals black. The 
ashes being removed, lift otf the two front covers and the 
cross-piece once more ; pour on more coal, always remember- 
ing not to fill above the fire-brick. The object in lifting off 
both covers and cross-bar, instead of pouring in the coal at 
9* 



202 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

one hole, and pushing it across with the poker, as most girls 
do, is to prevent the coal from scattering and lodging on the 
plate of the stove, under the side covers. If this is done, 
the coal remaining there prevents the heat from having a 
free circnlation ; therefore every time the coal is added, even 
if both covers are removed, giving a free opening to pour on 
what fuel is needed, it is best to pass the poker under the side- 
holes, and see that the upper plate is free from coal and ashes. 

"We have written these simple directions at the request of 
a " very young housekeeper," who assures us that there are 
hundreds " longing for just such instruction, who, fearing to 
expose their ignorance, are keeping silent, subjecting them- 
selves to all sorts of mistakes, which make their husbands 
cross, and set themselves almost crazy," 

We regret that any should feel ashamed to ask questions 
on household matters, however simple. To answer them, if 
in our power, is pleasure, and the questions are a great en- 
couragement ; for we often think we have exhausted all that 
need be said, when some word from the "young house- 
keepers " remind us of points which we have overlooked. 



XLIX. 

THE OLD WAYS AND THE NEW. 

IT is interesting to note the changes and improvements 
which have been made within the last half-century in 
almost all the conveniences and implements which are needed 
in the preparation of food. It may be that the ease and 
comfort by which this labor can be performed, through these 
new contrivances, when compared with the old ways, and 
the facility with which all classes, rich or poor, can and do 



THE OLD WAYS AND THE NEW. 203 

secure all or some of these conveniences, has tempted to an 
indulgence in luxuries regardless of economy or health. 
Perhaps the firm health and longevity so common among our 
forefathers were in some degree owing to their more simple 
diet ; but also very largely, we think, to their healthful ac- 
tivity and industry, and to the early to bed, early to rise 
habits which their active life demanded. 

But, as the present generation have acquired extravagant 
tastes with regard to food, as well as in dress, there certainly 
is cause for gratitude that great improvements in the machin- 
ery by which such work can be performed have kept pace with 
the cultivated taste that demands so much more skdl to grat- 
ify it. "We doubt, however, if any modern improvement can 
ever set before us food that will have the rare excellence, the 
exquisite flavor, of that which used to come from our 
mother's great brick oven. Ah, the bread, — the rich- 
colored brown bread ; the creamy-white bread ; the pies, 
puddings, and cakes ! 

" 'Twere worth ten years of modern life, 
One glance at that array ! " 

We have yet to see the device which can compensate for 
the loss of the old brick oven ! 

But wishing will not restore it to us who live in cities or 
large towns, unless we can bring back the old primeval 
forests, and, instead of the " coal-bins," possess again the old- 
fashioned wood-houses with their rich stores of seasoned 
wood, piled high to the rafters ; and the huge piles of green 
wood in the yard, waiting for the leisure days to be cut, 
split, and housed ; or we must emigrate to the unsettled 
parts of the West and South, which are still rich in splendid 
woodland, where the settlers are cutting down the ga^and old 
forests, or wastefully burning them. In their present haste 
to clear the land, they forget their own future interest and 



204 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. " 

tho comfort of their children, who, hy this waste and de- 
struction, will be denied the luxury of wood lires, and com- 
pelled to content themselves with coal, and all the annoyances 
and discomfort connected with its habitual use. Coal is 
excellent for the cook-stove ; but it is a great sacrifice when 
none but the rich can afford wood fires, in their family room 
at least. 

It may be difficult for the first occupants of wild lands to 
save the great wealth of fuel, while hastening to open up 
their farms. But it seems to us that it would be wise to pre- 
serve larger tracts of woodland on any new farm or home- 
steads, as a provision for the future ; remembering that any 
ten acres thoroughly cultivated will bring more abundant 
and better paying crops than thirty cleared but poorly culti- 
vated ; poorly, because the owner uses the time in cutting 
down the wood on the extra twenty acres which should 
have been given to the careful cultivation of the ten. When 
we have been at the West and South, at various times, it has 
been a source of continual regret to see that which our large 
towns and cities so greatly need recklessly given to the flames, 
knowing that the time cannot be far distant when these young 
towns will feel the need of this fuel as much as their elders. 
We cannot help thinking while we ride through the burning 
forests, that even a woman could manage so that the forests 
could be more largely preserved, and the trees which must 
fall be saved and made useful and profitable ; while the com- 
fort and prosperity of the possessor could be much increased 
by the economy, because the farm Avould be brought under 
more careful culture, and thus sooner return paying crops. 

But the thought of the well-beloved brick oven has led us 
into the wilderness, and away from our subject. 

We were noticing the great difference between the ancient 
and modern manner of cooking. Many of our readers re- 
member and have often used the brick ovens, the large old- 



THE OLD WAYS AND THE NEW. 205 

fashioned fireplace, the long crane, the pot-hooks and 
trammel on it, and the great pots and kettles suspended by 
them over the fierce fire, — the immense " roaster," the 
" Dutch oven," the Johnny-cake baked on the " Bannock- 
board " before the glowing bed of coals, wliile bright rows 
of apples were sputtering on the hearth. But all these 
names are to your children like words in an unknown tongue. 
They will never know the rich flavors gained only by this 
mode of cooking ; neither will they endure the pains and 
penalties by which this knowledge was obtained. What 
would those tyrants of our households, the modern cooks, 
say if compelled to swelter over the blazing fire, or roast 
with the meats they are cooking upon the fiery coals on the 
hearth ] 

Some years since we were presented w:ith one of Stewart's 
stoves, which proved so satisfactory that we never expected, 
and hardly desired, anything better ; and when, a few years 
later, we were persuaded to put the " Peerless " in its place, 
although always very ready to try anything new that prom- 
ises to lighten or simplify the kitchen work, we confess that 
it was with much reluctance that we consented to make the 
change, being in no wise inclined to believe that it could at 
all compete with our old and well-tried friend, the Stewart's. 
But the stove proved itself worthy of its name. " Peerless " 
it certainly has been, and in all respects given us more com- 
fort than any stove or range we have ever used, baking 
equally in every part of the oven, and using much less coal 
even than the Stewart's'." It is made by Pratt and Went- 
wo'rth, of Boston. 

We well remember when cook-stoves and ranges were first 
brought into common use, and how positive the good house- 
keepers were that nothing decent could be prepared with 
these strange contrivances. But only a few days were needed 
to work a complete conversion. Since then, almost every 



206 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

year brings before the public some new range or cook-stove, 
or marked improvements on the old. By and by we expect 
to see stoves and ranges arranged for the use of gas, instead 
of coal, for cooking ; and if a better quality of gas than that 
which has tormented us for the last few years can be fur- 
nished, we imagine any such invention will bring us nearer 
to the perfection of cooking arrangements than has ever been 
reached. To be free from smoke, and the dust and vexation 
of coal and ashes, will indeed be a consummation most 
devoutly to be wished. 

But until gas can be thus used in the kitchen, house- 
keepers have reason to be well satisfied with the many 
excellent ranges and stoves now in general use. 



L. 

A FEW HINTS ON CARVING. 

IT is a great accomplishment to be able to carve well and 
easily, without awkwardness ; but it is one that re- 
ceives altogether too little attention. Too often it would 
seem that the host or hostess, or whoever is called upon to 
perform this table duty, has no idea of there being anything 
needed but to hack off in the most expeditious manner as 
much meat as is required to satisfy the wants of those 
present, without the slightest reference to the mode in which 
it should be done, or the choice bits to be secured by careful 
carving. We have seen those who in every other respect 
were true gentlemen and ladies, carve poultry or a piece of 
meat in such a barbarous manner as to banish all desire to 
eat, and almost the ability to taste the big, uncouth, mangled 
lump that was put, or rather thrown, on the plate. To cut 



A FEW HINTS ON CARVING. 207 

off a thick, rough piece from any part that the knife 
happens to light upon first, aside from being untidy and un- 
palatable, is also very wasteful. After two or three such 
careless cuttings, the whole piece is so defaced and uneven, 
that it is no longer possible to secure a decent looking bit : 
and the bone is left with much adhering to it, in ragged 
morsels, which dry and become worthless if left over to the 
next day, but which, had the joint been properly carved, 
could have been sent to the table for a cold relish for tea, in 
a neat and attractive form. 

Our ladies are seldom good carvers, and do not often 
attempt it. Few have been taught, or thought it worth 
while to try and learn ; but in early times it was considered 
an indispensable part of a girl's education. The want of such 
knowledge often leaves one in an unpleasant and embarrass- 
ing position ; for to every one there occasionally comes a 
time when the gentleman of the family must be abseiit, and 
the lady must do the carving, or ask a guest or stranger, who 
may be even more awkward than herself. 

To stand up while carving is not as proper or skillful a 
way of doing the work as to be seated ; but it is sometimes 
easier and more convenient, and, if the table be at all 
crowded, less troublesome to guests. In such cases it is 
quite allowable. 

The carving-knife must be sharp and thin, A large, broad- 
bladed knife is needed for meats ; a long, narrow, and 
sharp-pointed blade for poultry and game ; both should be 
kept in perfect order, and always ready for use. 

"When dished, poultry or game must be laid on its back, 
the breast uppennost, for the greater convenience of the 
carver, who should put the fork into the breast, holding the 
bird firmly, until he has taken off the wings and legs, cut 
out the merry thought, or wish-bone ; cut nice, even slices 
from the breast, and removed the collar-bone. A skill- 



208 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ful carver will do all this without once turning the fowl over. 
Next cut off the side-bone, and cut down the back, dividing 
the carcass in two. Separate the drumstick from the second 
joint, and in helping a lady, if she prefer the wing, cut it 
in two parts that she may handle it more conveniently. 

A ham, or a leg of lamb or mutton, should be first cut in 
the middle, clean down to the bone, jDassing the knife all 
round. Then cut thin, even shces from the upper or thicker 
part, separating each sHce from the bone at the bottom, 
carefully, without tearing it. Some slices can also be cut 
from the lower part of the leg or ham, which are just as 
good as the upper part ; but after a little you come to the 
cords or fibers, and then the remainder of the lower part 
should be set aside to cut out all the little bits for a relish 
at tea, or, in ham, to chop up as seasoning or Avith other 
kinds of meat for hash. By cutting meat in this way, much 
may be saved. Good carving is good economy. 

The middle portion of boiled tongue is the best, and 
should be first served to guests. The tip is fit only for 
hashes. It should always be cut crosswise, never lengthwise. 

"When dishing a sirloin, place it on the platter with the 
tenderloin underneath, and carve thin slices lengthwise from 
the side next to you ; then turn the piece over, and carve the 
tenderloin carefully, cutting across the piece, serving equally 
from both parts. 

In carving a fore-qiiarter of lamb, divide the shoulders 
from the ribs ; then separate the ribs. The fore-quarter of 
pork and mutton should be carved in the same way. When 
carving the hind-quarter, cut neatly between the ribs to the 
joint, which must then be carefully separated, so as not to 
bring a jagged, mangled piece to the plate. To do this you 
-mil be obliged to charge your butcher particularly to crack 
the joints, not only of the liind, but also of the fore-quarter. 
He has the implements to do it more expertly than you can, 



PARENTAL EXAMPLE. 209 

and unless this is well done, it is quite impossible to carve 
the ribs neatly. Serve a bit of the kidney and the fat to each 
guest if agreeable. Some do not relish the kidney, and could 
eat with more relish if it were not on their plate, and for 
this reason it is safest to ask each one before helping. 

In carving a fillet of veal, begin at the top to cut, serving 
a portion of the dressing to each guest. When carving the 
breast of veal, cut the upper portion of the brisket, or that 
part of the breast that lies next to the ribs, separately, and 
in helping, inquire what part is preferred. 

Some like to send a young pig whole to the table, with a 
lemon or bunch of parsley put into the mouth. AVe think 
it much nicer to take off the head, and cut the pig in halves 
or quarters, before sending it to the table, and then carve it. 
It would be very unpleasant to many to see such a revolting 
caricature of a live pig brought before them. But each one 
must judge for himself. 



LI. 

PARENTAL EXAMPLE. 

PAEENTS may give "line upon line and precept up- 
on precept," in their assiduous watchfulness over the 
manners and morals of their children, yet, if they do not 
constantly bear in mind that example has more influence 
over the young than precept, their efforts will be of little 
avail. If you reprove a child for careless usage of books, 
show them how they are injured and defaced, by turning 
down corners, scribbling on the margin, or throwing them 
down on the face, how much good will such lectures do, if, 
when he enters your library, or comes where you have been 



210 MOTHEELY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

reading, the child sees your books tossed about, the bindings 
strained, and the corners in a most undesirable condition 1 

You endeavor to inculcate a habit of neatness in your 
daughter ; you insist that when she returns from a walk or ride 
she shall smooth out her bonnet-strings, brush the dust from 
it, and put it at once in the bonnet-box ; you teU her to fold 
her shawl neatly, hang up her sack, pull the fingers of her 
gloves straight, fold them up and lay them in their appro- 
priate place ; and this you request her to do, not once or 
twice, but habitually, not only because it is tidy, but also a 
great saving of time and garments in the course of a year. 
But if you come in, and toss your street garments about in 
the most careless manner, how much good, think you, will 
all your words of instruction have accomplished 1 You may 
enforce obedience, but compulsory habits are not usually 
abiding ; and, when old enough to cast off restraint, it will 
be, not so much the tvords you have spoken, as the things 
your child has seen you do habitually, which will influence 
and guide her womanhood. 

You resolutely object to your children using low phrases, 
— what is termed dang ; but if your own conversation is 
largely interspersed with foolish or needless ejaculations, 
fight against it as you may, you will find it impossible to 
prevent them from copying your mode of speaking, and it 
will be very strange if they do not carry it to a much greater 
extent than you have done. 

I^owhere is this force of example so strikingly exemplified 
as at the table. It is always disagreeable to see a child 
sitting with its arms on the table, or resting its elbow there 
while carrying the food to its mouth. There is some ex- 
cuse for the little ones, as their short limbs grow weary, and 
the position, though a very awkward one, seems to them a 
rest from the restraint of the table ; and no doubt it is so. 
It is exceedingly annoying to see children filling their mouths 



PARENTAL EXAMPLE. 211 

too full, and then washing the food down by drinking, be- 
fore the food is half masticated. If a child reaches ov'er 
another's plate for some article of food, instead of politely 
asking for it, who can help feeling disturbed by the rudeness ? 
It is disagreeable to all present to see any one stand upon the 
round of the chair, or on the floor, and spring after a piece 
of bread or meat, or push a dish across the table instead of 
handing it. You shrink from the child who helps itself 
to butter with the knife from its own plate. All this is an- 
noying in children, but it is intolerable when practiced by 
the parents. They are as much disgusted as any " lookers-on " 
can be, when they notice such rude, ill-mannered actions in 
their children ; but while they severely blame these young 
things, they forget that these are always watching and imi- 
tating their parents' faults. 

We have seen those who were in most respects truly 
refined, whose great anxiety seemed to be to guard their 
children from any contact with rude associates, and to teach 
them as much refinement of manner and character as was 
possible ; and in most things we have observed that such 
parents most scrupulously and conscientiously conformed to 
their own instructions ; but when we have had a seat at 
their table, we have sometimes been amazed to observe that 
they felt themselves exonerated from the observance of the 
simplest forms of table etiquette, yet held their children 
in strict bondage to such rules, and made the hours spent 
at what should be the social, cheerful board very uncomfort- 
able by continued reproofs. 

" John, take your arms off the table." The child raises 
his eyes to his father, and sees one arm laid on the table be- 
fore him, the other supporting his head, with the elbow on 
the table, while administering this reproof. 

" James, how often must I tell you to ask for what you 
want, and not reach for it across the table 1 " 



212 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

A few minutes after, James sees his reprover reaching to the 
full stretch of his arm, supplemented by the fork from his 
oivn plate, and pick up a potato, piece of bread, or meat, at 
the farther end of the table. 

" child, will you never learn to eat without smacking 
your lips and making such a disagreeable noise % It makes 
one sick to hear you ! " 

The child has been watching the parent while eating, and 
trying hard to imitate the genuine gourmand's smack which 
he hears from the head of the table. 

" I am astonished ! Why do you take the bread from 
the plate with your fingers and toss it in that manner to 
your sister 1 Never let me see you guilty of such rudeness 
again ! " 

JS'ow, children are quick to see mistakes and discrepancies 
in the conduct of their elders, or those who have the rule 
over them. It does not require many years for them to mark 
how inconsistent such training is. Naturally children are 
not very fond of rules and regulations ; they like freedom 
of action as well as their elders ; and if they see that what 
is called rude and ill-mannered in a child is the daily practice 
of those whom they are expected to look up to, is it 
strange that they take every possible opportunity to trans- 
gress these precepts, so strangely nullified by parental exam- 
ple 1 They are always reaching forward to something beyond 
their present condition. If father or mother does such and 
such things, which are denied to the young son or daughter, 
of course they long for the same privilege ; because if their 
parents do thus, it must be something smart, the imitation 
of which brings them nearer to manhood and womanhood, 
and farther from childhood, from which latter period all chil- 
dren are eager to hasten away. Then, if this is so, — and 
we think every observing parent has found it to be true, — 
is it not important that the rules which are laid down to 



TRUE TASTE MORE EFFECTIVE THAN MONEY. 213 

secure good morals and good manners in the children sliould 
be considered of sufficient importance to regulate the prac- 
tice of the parents ; and should not the deviations from 
them, on the part of the elders, be few, — or, better yet, 
none ] 



LII. 
TRUE TASTE MORE EFFECTIVE THAN MONEY. 

MANY imagine they must relinquish all hopes of grati- 
fying their tastes, or the inherent love of the beauti- 
ful, if tliey do not rank among the rich. This is an entirely 
false idea. There are houses upon which thousands of dol- 
lars have been expended, that would be quite intolerable to 
people of real refinement as a permanent residence. The whole 
arrangement and furniture are so stiff and formal, so heavy 
and oppressive with superfluous ornament, that simple curi- 
osity to see what strange vagaries can enter into the heads 
of the rich, and in what absurd manner they study to spend 
their abundant wealth, would seem to be the only motive 
which could tempt a sensible person to enter. 

On the other hand we find small, modest cottages, Avhich 
bear iinmistakable evidence of the necessity of close economy, 
which have far more of real comfort and convenience about 
them than those splendid mansions, and at the same time 
they are gems, bearing in every part the stamp of true 
elegance and refinement. They are so beautified by the 
genuine taste and ingenuity of the occupants, that it is real 
pleasure to pass from one room to another, or sit quietly and 
enjoy the sweet enchantment ; yet money had little to do 
toward securing such attractions. It is the fitness of things. 



214 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS, 

the harmonious blending of shape and color, the adapta- 
tion of the furniture to the wants of each apartment, that 
make the Avhole combination so peculiarly delightful. And 
yet, how and from what was all this tasteful furnishing con- 
structed ? If some of those persons, whose dark and gloomy 
parlors are hung with the costliest damask, and their furniture 
carved and upholstered by the most skillful and fashionable 
workmen, should, by chance, find themselves in one of these 
pleasant homes, they could not help being captivated by 
the spirit of the place, in spite of the absence of style or 
fashion. The elegant, airy, graceful parlors, the rest, the 
peace and comfort which pervade the whole atmosphere, 
would be to them a new experience ; and what would be 
their astonishment to learn with how little expense all 
this, Avhich they acknowledge to be so refresliing, has been 
secured ! 

No matter if the purse is not very heavy, young people, 
with good health and a fair share of taste and ingenuity, 
have great pleasure in store for themselves, when they under- 
take together to furnish and beautify a house, which is to 
be their home. There are so many small conveniences, so 
many little contrivances, that a carpenter never thinks of, 
because he has never had woman's work to do, and there- 
fore cannot see how important these little things are. A 
woman should know just where an hour's work, well consid- 
ered and planned, can be employed to manufacture some 
convenient thing, that will save much time and strength, 
and which, however cheaply and roughly made, she can, 
in a few spare moments, transform into an object of real 
beauty. 

" Harper's Bazar," always full of suggestions, often de- 
scribes the way of making useful articles beautiful ones. 
The pictures and explanations are very easily understood, 
and each one who attempts to profit by these suggestions 



TRUE TASTE MORE EFFECTIVE THAN MONEY. 21,j 

can elaborate or modify as her skill, time, or means may allow. 
There is no end to the variety and improvement that will 
grow out of each successive trial ; and certainly no end to 
the pleasure that one can enjoy in seeing such trophies 
of taste spring up within and around a new home. A 
few yards of bright blue, pink, or green paper muslin, with 
an overskirt of cheap Nottingham lace, dotted muslin, or an 
old lawn dress, can soon transform a rough half-circle or 
square piece of board into a pretty wash-stand or dressing- 
table. Old broom-handles make good legs for the stands ; 
and a part of the length of the handle, not needed, or some 
smaller stick, answers nicely for the rounds or braces. The 
husband can easily bore the holes in the top, into which the 
legs may be fastened, and also for the braces necessary to 
keep the table firm ; an old piece of cloth does nicely for the 
under-cover ; an old hoop-skirt nailed around the edge of the 
top, before the wadding and upper cover are put on, is excel- 
lent to make the outside skirt hang in a proper manner, or 
the grandmother's old-fashioned wire fire-fender, which for 
years has lain rusting in your mother's garret, is admirable 
for that purpose. Then, with the bright, delicately colored 
paper muslin, and the white lace or lawn overskirt, or cover, 
you have, with trifling expense, as pretty a toilet-table or 
washstand as any one need desire. Underneath the hoops 
or fender you may have a convenient repository for work- 
basket or boxes, if your house is not well supplied with 
closets. 

" Sleepy Hollows," sewing-chairs or easy-chairs made 
from old hogsheads or barrels, and pretty lounges from long 
packing-boxes, are, we think, among the articles the " Bazar " 
has sometimes mentioned, — giving pictures and explana- 
tions of the manner in Avhich the roughest and hardest work 
may be executed. From these directions, any one with tol- 
erable skill can gather the iirst ideas, and then proceed 



216 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

to make the articles, modifying the shajje to suit their own 
fancy. 

Pretty ottomans or stools covered to match the furniture 
of the room are a great convenience, and help to give a 
genteel, stylish air. If skillfully made and dressed, who 
could imagine that they are formed from well-cleaned and 
scoured soap-boxes or butter-tubs, with castors screwed 
to the bottom, and a cover with hinges on the top, thus 
serving a double purpose, — making a pleasant seat, easily 
rolled to any part of the room, and a convenient box or 
trunk for holding work-bundles, papers, or your boots and 
slippers. 

We never regret the loss of youth and strength so much, 
or are so near being envious, as when we see young people 
studying how ingeniously they can arrange a small cottage, 
and give it the air of beauty and elegance their natures so 
much crave. They will not find half the pleasure in enjoy- 
ing it, all perfected, as they would have had in planning and 
executing ; and yet how many throw aside such enjoyment, 
and turn this pleasant labor into drudgery, not willingly cul- 
tivating all the talents God has bestowed upon them, but 
repining because they cannot afford to employ an uphol- 
sterer to furnish what their own skill might have executed 
perhaps far more satisfactorily. 

We will follow these suggestions no further, but hope 
some of our young housekeepers may be led to improve the 
hints, in a manner that shall make them converts to the 
ideas advanced. 



COOKING BY STEAM, L'17 

LIU. 

COOKING BY STEAM. 

MUCH has been said of the superiority of steamed food 
over that which is boiled or baked ; and year after 
year the papers or magazines devoted to domestic economy 
and the improvement and simplihcation of household labor 
have advocated this mode of cooking meats, vegetables, and 
many other articles of food, every few months recommending 
some new invention. We have tried one experiment after 
another, finding, to be sure, some imperfection in all ; but 
enough that was practicable to convince us there was much 
which was desirable in the idea ; and, if able to do the work 
with our own hands, confident we could reap great advan- 
tage from it. 

When the mistress of a family has not strength to do her 
cooking herself, or that part of it which requires more than 
ordinary judgment and skill, she is not situated so that 
new modes of work can be tried with much prospect of suc- 
cess. Most servants, particularly the cooks, when accus- 
tomed to one mode of work, are very reluctant to change ; 
and, therefore, if the mistress is not able to make all ex- 
periments herself, she will soon find, unless fully prepared 
to have the autocrat of the kitchen abdicate without "giving 
notice," that it is safest, and wisest often, to allow a tolerably 
■good girl to move on in the " even tenor of her ways," Avith- 
out attempting any changes, except those Avhich she can 
bring about quietly and imperceptibly. This is no very 
easy lesson for an old liousekeeper to learn ; but repeated 
defeats must teach her that patience, as Avell as discretion, 
is a " better part of valor." 
10 



218 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUxMG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

In the last century, an American, Benjamin Thompson, 
made Count Eumford by the Elector of Bavaria for distin- 
guished military and scientific services, gave much time and 
thought to the study of heat and experiments in cooking, 
being the inventor of the present style of coal fireplaces 
and grates, cooking ranges, etc. He was the first person on 
record, with any pretensions to learning and philosophy, who 
ever studied the dressing of meat for food as a science. The 
result was the invention of a boiler for cooking by steam. 
Within a short time another boiler has been perfected 
involving the same principles, l^ut containing various im- 
provements over the steamer of the last century, which has 
been named "Eumford's Boiler" in compliment to the 
original inventor. We have been trying it. 

Our cook was positive she could never use that thing. 
It was troublesome, took up too much room on the stove, etc. 
Bless the girl ! That is one of the excellences of that 
thing. Little else in the way of utensils is needed on the 
top of the stove, beside one of these boilers. We stipulated 
that she should use it two weeks, and if found troublesome, 
it should share the fate of many other inventions, and no 
more be said about it. But long before the two weeks 
expired it had won Mary's heart entirely, and now she would 
sooner part with anything else from her kitchen than the 
" Eumford Boiler." 

One peculiarity of this most excellent boiler is, that unlike 
all others we have ever seen, neither steam nor tcater comes 
in actual contact with the article to be cooked. Tavo inches 
of Avater is put into the bottom of the boiler. Then a large 
receiver, into which meat, fowl, or fish is put to be cooked, 
is fitted on tight over the boiling water, and shut ofi" from 
aU possibility of being touched by steam or water by a close- 
fitting cover. Above this two other pans, or boilers, for 
vegetables, custards, etc., can be fitted with tight cover also ; 



COOKING BY STEAM. 219 

and the whole boiler, which is about as large but higher 
than an ordinary wash-boiler, is also closely covered. Very 
little fuel will keep the water boiling hot Avhen once it has 
reached that point, as no licat can escape by evaporation. It 
is not generally understood, or at least it is not borne in 
mind with sufficient care, that " after water is just boiling, 
all the fuel which is needed to make it bod violently is just 
so much Avasted, Avithout in the smallest degree expediting 
or shortening the process of cooking. It is by the heat, its in- 
tensity and the time of its duration, not by the boiling or 
bubbling up of the water, that the food is cooked." 

In this " Eumford Boiler " the water can be kept at the 
boiling point Avith no more fuel than need be used to keep 
tAvo quarts of water at that temperature. It is the most 
economical and comfortable arrangement for summer use, 
and at the same time equally desirable for the winter. Meat 
cooked in it not only retains all its juice, but also nearly all 
its original weight, losing about one ounce to a pound ; by 
the regular process of baking, meats lose over four ounces 
to a pound. 

The uniform heat of the boiling Avater cooks whatever is put 
into the boiler equally all the way through ; no meat, vege- 
table, or any other article can be scorched. It would seem 
impossible for the poorest cook to spoil a dinner, so long as 
she does not let the fire go out or remove the boiler from the 
stove. Meats require no basting, and in that respect much 
time and labor can be saved ; and the fire once fairly burn- 
ing can be kept Ioav as soon as the water has reached the 
boiling point, and no more care of a coal fire is needed till 
the dinner is ready. 

Meat, fish, and vegetables may all be cooked at the same 
time in this boiler ; for being placed in separate receivers 
with closely fitting covers, no taste can possibly pass from 
one kind of food to another. Meat thus steamed or cooked 



220 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

is much more juicy, tender, and easy of digestion than when 
prepared in any other way we know of. No danger of burn- 
ing, scorching, or overcooking. If left in much longer than 
is needed, it is not injured by it ; for, as no water or steam 
can reach it, it is only kept hot in its own juices, without 
the sodden, disagreeable look and taste of meat that has re- 
mained too long in boiling water or a perforated steamer ; 
and, what is even as great a recommendation as the excellent 
flavor of the food, the house is not filled with smoke and 
smell of cooking. 

Besides, if properly cooked, there is no waste, — all is 
eatable and palatable ; even the tip of the wings from birds 
and poultry, which in baking are dried up and perfectly 
worthless, are delicious, for there is no sweeter meat than 
wings, when not dried past use. In steaming all is tender 
and juicy. "When we steam beef, mutton, game, or poultry, 
we take them from the steamer, dredge over a little flour, 
and put into the oven about fifteen minutes, — ■ not long 
enough to dry, but simply brown delicately, — and think it 
an improvement. 

We have also found, by experiments, that we can do many 
more things with this boiler than we were promised, and 
with the most gratifying results. We put bread, cake, and 
pies into it, cover close, and leave them till done ; then set 
them in the oven long enough to secure the rich, golden 
brown ; and now there are no more burnt upper or imder 
crusts, and no more uncooked bottom crust to our pastry. 



VEGETABLES. 221 

LIV. 

VEGETABLES. 

JUNE is the season when vegetables are most abundant 
and can be had in the greatest variety. Among the 
numberless articles of food there is nothing so conducive to 
health as good, fresh, and properly prepared vegetables, and 
nothing which so easily deranges the whole system if used 
stale, unripe, or badly cooked. Vegetables having so large a 
share in our comfort, it is essential that housekeepers should 
understand how to prepare every variety not only in the most 
attractive manner, but also in the most healthful way that 
can be devised. 

In the city it is not easy, hardly possible, to procure fresh 
vegetables. Those only who have a private team, and can 
send to the adjacent market-gardens, can hope to have them ; 
hence our city housekeepers, who have never had the good 
fortune to live in the country during the harvest season of 
vegetables, can hardly realize the difference between peas, 
beans, corn, etc., which can be gathered early, and eaten 
almost with the dew upon them, and such as are heaped into 
market-wagons and brought from a distance, and exposed 
for hours or days, if the sales are not rapid in our markets, 
to the air and sun ; made to retain the semblance of fresh 
vegetables by frequent showers from the hose or watering-pot. 
Nothing so readily destroys all the sweetness and the richest 
flavors of such articles as these shower-baths ; and although 
the purchaser may fully understand the whole art of cooking, 
no skill can bring to our city tables such flavors and richness 
as the farmers or the country gentleman should enjoy daily. 
It is through carelessness or ignorance if they do not feast 



222 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

luxuriously all summer. Of course, almost all kinds of 
vegetables can be cooked in a great variety of ways ; and as 
tastes differ widely, and what would please one may be dis- 
tasteful to another, by this variety every one may be suited ; 
yet there are some general rules that must always remain 
fixed and immovable ; and if not followed, no mode of cook- 
ing these viands will be fully satisfactory. Some few items 
from the history of some of our most common roots and 
vegetables may not be uninteresting, before giving a review 
of the mode of preparing and cooking them. 

The Potato, now one of the most useful and nutritious 
of the esculent roots, is a native of South America, and first 
found wild in Chili and Peru, although it is often called Irish 
potato, and supposed by many to have been first found in 
Ireland. It was brought to England in 1586, and for a long 
time was eaten as a fruit, or made into pies or puddings, and 
eaten with sauces and wines. It was so used through the 
time of Queen Elizabeth. It was planted in Ireland by 
Sir Walter Ealeigh, on one of his estates in that country. 
After being planted and partly grown, the little green balls, 
which foUoAV the blossoms, were supposed to be the fruit. 
Sir "Walter had them cooked, but finding them not at all 
palatable he concluded the crop was a failure, and, as might 
be supposed, was not very strongly tempted by his first ex- 
periment to try it again. But upon turning up the ground, 
to use for other purposes, to his great satisfaction he found 
the food he had looked for on the stalk hid in the earth, and 
of a most desirable character. 

After many experiments it was proved that thrice as large 
a crop of potatoes as of any other root could be produced 
from an acre, and they soon became the chief food of the 
Irish peasantry, and remain so to this day. 

There is no end to the varieties of the potato that are 
being brought before the public. New seedlings are an- 



VEGETABLES. 223 

nounced every year ; almost every section has its own 
special seedling or favorite, which seems excellent there, but 
deteriorates when planted in other parts ; and many kinds 
which were the best known years ago are now lost sight of 
entirely. We have not since childhood been able to find 
the "rusty coats" or "lady's fingers," but have never seen 
a potato that eipialled them ; partly, no doubt, because 
cue never carries the tastes of childhood into mature age to 
perfection, but this is not altogether the reason ; they were, 
undoubtedly, very excellent potatoes. The " early rose " 
is nearer to our idea of the " rusty coats " in flavor, but is 
not like it in appearance, nor of so perfect a quality. 

The potato can be satisfactorily used in more ways than 
any other edible root, — in bread, pastry, starch, puddings, 
pies, and salad ; boiled, baked, roasted, stewed, fried. It is 
said " they fiuiiish flour without a mill, and bread without 
an oven." 

After potatoes are taken from the ground, and have been 
exposed to the sun and air long enough to dry, the sooner 
they are placed in a cool, dry cellar the better they will 
keep. Mrs. Haskill, in her " Housekeeper's Encyclop?edia," 
advises that all that are needed for winter use should be packed 
in barrels, and a little ^jZas^e?" scattered over each layer, 
to absorb the moisture ; such as are to be kept for spring 
use she thinks should be buried in the ground, and a little 
plaster be sprinkled over them ; also, Mrs. Haskill claims 
that this is a preventive against rot, but does not consider 
it sure. Whether this is good doctrine, we leave for our 
scientific farmers. 

The Srveet Potato is a tuberous root, very different from 
our common potato. It is common in tropical climates, 
where it is much more perfect than in our colder States. 
There are seldom but two kinds brought to our markets, the 
red or purple rooted, and the white or yellow rooted. Far 



224 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Soutli, the red grows to a lai'ge size, and is sweeter and more 
nutritious than those raised at the JS'orth. The white or 
yellow rooted grows more perfectly Avith us than the red. 
In jSTew Jersey they are largely raised, and of a good quality. 
Thirty years ago, sweet potatoes were a luxury on any 
Northern table : now they are in daily use when in season ; 
but to find them in the greatest perfection we must still go 
South for them. The young leaves and tender shoots are 
sometimes boiled as greens, and are pronounced quite whole- 
some. 

In California, sweet potatoes grow to an immense size, 
often weighing lour or liA-e pounds, and sometimes eight or 
ten. 

The Jerusalem Artichoke grows in clusters of tubers, some- 
thing like the potato. It is a native of Brazil. It was 
brought to England and was much in use there before it 
was superseded by the common potato. It was called the 
Canada potato, to distinguish it from the common kind, then 
known as the Virginia potato. It is wholesome and nutri- 
tious, but not dry and mealy. The plants are extremely 
productive and once started it is difficult to eradicate them 
from the soil; they are said to be an excellent food for 
horses and hogs. Girasole, not Jerusalem, should be the 
term. • That is the Italian name for sunfioiver, which this 
artichoke resembles in many particulars, and to which it is 
in some degree akin, but not at all to the artichoke proper, 
which is a plant brought from the Mediterranean. The 
flower-head before blossoming is the part eaten, boiled plain 
and eaten with melted butter and pepper, like spinach and 
other greens. The bottoms are also sometimes boiled in 
milk and eaten, and sometimes pickled. The French fry 
them and use them in various ways, sometimes raw as 
salads. 

The Yavi also resembles the common potato. It is exten- 



CABBAGE. 225 

sively grown in the East and West Indies, and in Africa 
and America. It is sweeter and firmer than the potato, 
grows flat, about a foot long, and sometimes divided like 
fingers. One variety, called the hinged yam, often grows 
three feet long and weighs twenty or thirty pounds. When 
raw, like the potato, the juice is acrid and not healthful, but 
boiling destroys all harmful properties. A favorite dish is 
prepared from it in the tropics, combined with grated cocoa- 
nut and the pulp of the banana. 



LV. 

CABBAGE. 



IE" this chapter we have something to say of an old 
familiar friend, the Cabbage, which for ages has been 
one of the most useful of all our vegetables, being very pro- 
ductive, and, for many persons, nutritious and healthful. It 
is found growing wild on the cliffs in many parts of the 
southern coasts of England ; but these do not very closely 
resemble the large, vigorous vegetable we see on our farms 
and in our gardens. There it is dwarfed, not weighing more 
than an ounce, Avith a few feeble leaves. Even in this state 
it is sometimes gathered and eaten for greens, but is not 
very tempting. Although thus found wild on the southern 
British coast, the numerous kinds now under careful cultiva- 
tion, in almost all our large farms or market-gardens, are the 
results of many experiments made by scientific and enter- 
prismg agriculturists. It was also largely cultivated and im- 
proved in other countries long before its use was under- 
stood in England. It was a common product among the 
Eomans, and although they were lawless and ambitious in 
their inroads upon the surrounding nations, their conquests, 
10* o 



226 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

with, all tlio attending evils, were conducive of many good 
results ; for Avherever their armies went, they left behind 
new arts and habits, tending toward a larger civilization than 
is commonly the result of wars. Many fruits, roots, and 
vegetables, unknown in Spain, Germany, and England, were 
brought by the conquering Romans into general use among 
these nations. 

The Saxons used cabbage under the name of kale, and it 
is still so called in Scotland. For a long time it was the 
only vegetable known in that country, but there is no end to 
the kinds now in use, and the varieties are multiplied yearly 
by the experiments and skill of the producers. With some 
persons it is not easy of digestion when cooked, but when 
cut up raw and used as a salad there is hardly anything 
more wholesome or palatable than the cabbage. Some 
chemists assert that it contains an oil which is injurious, 
unless, when cooking, the cabbage is boiled in two waters. 
However that may be, we know that this vegetable is far 
more delicate and tempting, if, after boiling about half an 
hour, the water is poured off, and clear boiling water added, 
in which the cabbage is cooked till done. With that pre- 
caution, aside from being nicer, it is not half as liable to pro- 
duce disagreeable effects. 

The Borecole, or hale proper, as now understood, differs 
from the common cabbage in having long, curly, wrinkled 
leaves, more like the original "vnld plant, only larger and of 
thicker growth, never forming into a close, solid head. They 
are very hardy, and furnish most excellent winter greens ; 
and if the leaves and stalks are blanched, are greatly im- 
proved and very delicate. These kales are improved by 
frost. The Scotch or German hale, or c^ialis (curly greens), 
is used in immense quantities in Britain. The buda and the 
Russian kale are much less common. The buda is con- 
sidered a great delicacy when blanched ; the sprouts, and not 



CABBAGE. 227 

the heart, being the most desirable. "VVe have never seen it 
in our markets, but should think it might be brought to 
great perfection in our country, and be a very desirable ad- 
dition to our numerous sorts of cabbage. The Coleya oil, 
so miich in use in France for lamps, is made from the seeds 
of one kind of kale, and we think we have been told it is 
from the buda. 

The Portuguese cabbage, from Tranzuda, is extensively 
cultivated abroad, and we see not why that also cannot be 
introduced here. It is said to be peculiarly tender and deli- 
cate, and destitute of the coarse rank taste of our common 
kinds. The heart is the preferable part ; the mid-rib or stalk 
being used after the green parts are cut off only as greens. 
We wonder that some enterprising Yankee has not brought 
it into our markets. 

The Palm hale and the Cow-cabbage are cultivated in Jer- 
sey, and other of the Anglo-lN'orman isles, as food for cattle. 
The leaves of both grow to a great height, from twelve to 
fifteen feet. It is the outer leaf that is fed to the cattle ; 
the heart of the bud is quite tender, and when cooked is 
good and nutritious. 

The close-headed cabbage has many varieties, — the tvhite 
and the red drinn-head, sngar-loaf, Savoy, etc. These are 
raised from the seed, and should be sowed the year before 
they are wanted, for large heads. "While young, or the first 
year, if cooked at all it is as greens, or cabbage coletvorts. 
Such as are not kept for growth the second year are pidled 
up, root and all, and thus sent to market to keep them from 
withering. The roots are cut off by the cook just before 
using. Some, when the head is half formed, are gathered 
for summer cabbage ; but if left till fall the head becomes 
hard and firm, and late in the season they are pulled up and 
stored, or buried in the ground. Such as are needed for 
summer sprouts or coleworts are left in the ground all winter, 



228 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

and are ready early, with the nice new shoots for the spring 
market. 

The red cabbage makes a line pickle, and is the kind most 
used by the Germans for sauerlcraut, though almost any variety 
Avill answer. The dwarf red is much used abroad for stewing. 

The Savoys have leaves much more curly than the other 
varieties, and the middle part of their fu'm heads is excellent 
for boiling, and particularly fine for cole, or cold slaw, or 
kohl slaw, as the Germans term it. The dwarf and the yel- 
low Savoy will stand the frost. The Brussels sprouts are 
something like the Savoy, but grow often three or four feet 
high. The sprouts form in little, delicate heads all the way 
up. The top of the stalk is more solid, and it is that which 
is like the Savoy. 

The Catdijiower and Broccoli are among the most desirable 
of the cabbage tribe, and bring a higher price than any. 
The former is probably a native of the island of Cyprus, and 
the broccoli is said to have been introduced into Holland and 
England from Italy, in the seventeenth century. They are 
quite similar in habit and taste, but the broccoli will bear 
the frost and cold better than the cauliflower. Both are 
very great favorites and very delicate. 

The leaves of all kinds of cabbage decay very early, and 
are then exceedingly offensive. They should never be 
allowed to remain in the cellar or lie about the house, as 
they are very injurious to the health. The water in which 
cabbage is boiled is also offensive and unhealthy, and should 
be poured into drains where it "will the soonest pass off. 

Our farmers often feed the outside leaves of cabbage to 
their cattle. All very well if they do not give them to their 
milcli cotos. Many of our dairymen will not believe that 
cabbage or turnips injure the flavor of milk or butter, but we 
think their taste must be greatly perverted if they fail to 
detect the flavor at once. 



PULSE. 229 



LVI. 



PULSE. 

MANY of the most useful and important of farinaceous 
or mealy kinds of vegetables are known under the 
name of i^^'-^^^- -^^ ^^^ large varieties of the hean, pea, 
lentil, tare, and vetch belong to this family. 

The Vetch and Tare are chiefly used for cattle ; very sel- 
dom in this country or England are they seen on our tables, 
even among the poorest class of people ; but the lentil, a 
kind of bean, is greatly esteemed among the French and 
Germans, and, when properly and carefully prepared and 
seasoned, is more highly esteemed by them than the common 
pea and bean. They consider the flavor better, and the 
vegetable itself more nourishing. In France it is extensively 
used for seasoning soups, but in England and America is not 
much known except as food for cattle. 

Xext to nuts and fruits, all kinds of pulse were important 
articles of food in the earlier ages, for it required little labor 
and skiU to produce or raise them. When fresh and tender, 
many kinds of pulse can be employed in cooking, particularly 
for soups, and many that we know nothing of except through 
books, would flourish in our climate, both North and South, 
and might be profitably cultivated. Year by year we find 
something new in our agricultural catalogues, as well as in 
the horticultural and floral. 

Feas and Beans when dried are less digestible and health- 
ful than when eaten green, as the skin becomes hard, and 
unless removed, as it can be by rubbing through a sieve for 
soups, \vill, mth many people, produce flatulency, constipa- 
tion, and often severe colic. But green or dried, almost 



230 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

every sort of pulse will fiu'nisli excellent food for most of 
our domestic animals, and is also considered very desirable 
to alternate with other crops, for, if corn or grain is raised 
year after year, on the same piece of land, it will in a short 
time wear out the soil ; but pulse does not impoverish the 
land, and therefore may be grown on fields that require rest 
from more exhausting crops. 

We learn that the time of the discovery of peas and beans 
has not been satisfactorily ascertained, but they were in early 
times extensively cultivated, especially the ^^ea, in India, 
China and Japan, although evidently not a native of any 
of the extreme warm climates. When the English were be- 
sieging a castle in Lathian, in 1299, they were well pleased 
to supply their exhausted stores with this kind of pulse, 
which grew in that vicinity abundantly, and doubtless, on 
learning its nutritious properties, gladly introduced it into 
their own country. During Queen Elizabeth's reign, her 
table was supplied with peas from Holland ; fit food, says 
one of the writers of that time, for royal ladies, because 
" it was brought so far and cost so dear." 

ISTow, under careful and more enlightened culture, the 
varieties of peas raised in this country and throughout Eu- 
rope are numerous. To speak of them all and of the whole 
family of pulse would require a volume. Exit much depends 
on the section in which the different varieties are raised, for, 
as with most kinds of produce, that which in one locality 
would prove most excellent, when transferred to another 
will become quite inferior. 

The Chich-pea is small and not very digestible. It will 
not boil soft, but, like some of the lentils, is parched, and 
in Egypt and Syria sold in the shops to travellers, by whom 
it is greatly esteemed, because while passing through the 
deserts it occupies little room and needs no preparation. 
Youmans says that it will sustain more life, weight for weight. 



ruLSE. 231 

than any other kind of food, and that peas and beans are 
ranked first among the concentrated, strength-imparting 
food ; but althougli strength-giving, we do not think it 
easily digested, unless eaten Avhile fresh and tender, and 
cooked with care. Some kinds of peas are prepared by the 
Chinese as a vegetable cheese. 

It would be useless to attempt to mention the best varie- 
ties of either peas or beans. Some seek for the earliest, 
some the largest or most prolific. In selecting, it is always 
wise to go to some intelligent seedsman, keeping a large as- 
sortment of all kinds of seeds, and learn his opinion ; then, 
from the information thus obtained, decide which variety 
will best meet your Avishes and locality. Some kinds of 
peas, like the string l^ean, have the pod and seed cut up and 
cooked together. 

The Turnip was introduced into England from Hanover. 
It now grows wild in many parts of England, bixt the 
wild kind cannot, by cultivating, be brought up to the ex- 
cellency of our garden and farm turnip. The turnip tops 
are brought into market for greens. The medium-sized roots 
are better than the largest, which are liable to become corky 
or spongy. 

The Carrot was brought to England by Flemish refugees, 
during the reign of Elizabeth, and the leaves were in great 
demand by her court ladies as ornaments for the hair. The 
ladies of the present day are not satisfied to use it for that 
purpose, but by putting a root into a glass of water, and 
hanging in a window, in a feAV weeks they have a pretty, 
graceful window ornament, as young leaves will start out and 
form a green ball, very delightful to the eye in mid-winter. 
Both turnips and carrots are largely used on the table, and 
are very desirable to season soups or stews, or garnish fancy 
dishes. The carrot makes a very good pie, and with a judi- 
cious use of eggs and cream can be made quite palatable. 



232 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

When boiled and prepared for the table, the young and 
tender roots should be selected, as when large or old they 
become Avoody and fibrous. The carrot is excellent food for 
horses and cows. Unlike the turnip, it imparts no unpleasant 
taste to the milk, and is, therefore, very desirable for winter 
feed. The carrot contains a much larger proportion of sugar 
than most of the esculent roots ; a large quantity of spirits 
can be distilled from it, and it is sometimes used instead of 
malt for beer. 

The Parsnip is also a native of Britain, and largely used, not 
oidy for soups and garnishing dishes, but as a vegetable ; or, 
dipped in a batter of butter, flour, and white of eggs, it is 
fried a delicate brown, and sent to the table as a side-dish. 
During Lent, it is much eaten with fish. It is even sweeter 
than the carrot, — much too sweet to please all tastes. Like 
the carrot, it is excellent in soups, and is sometimes made 
into bread. A kind of wine, said to resemble the Malmsley 
wiae of Madeira, can be made from the parsnip. In Ireland, 
they brew it with hops, and make what they consider an 
agreeable drink. Parsnips and potatoes, in Scotland, are 
often beaten up with butter, and a nice dish for children 
prepared from them. 

The varieties of the Onion tribe are more widely spread 
over the whole world than any other article of food. The 
onion, leek, chive, garlic, and shallot are the kinds in most 
universal use. In Egypt and many parts of Africa, it is 
noted for its very delicate taste, being less pungent and the 
odor less offensive than those raised with us. Two thou- 
sand years before Christ, it had, in the estimation of the 
Egyptians, some mysterious signification, and was worshipped 
by them as possessing wonderful efficacy. The onion is 
much pleasanter for food or seasoning in warm climates than 
with us. Those raised in Spain, Portugal, and Strasburg are 
famous for their great delicacy. They are everywhere used, 



PULSE. 233 

cooked, raw, or made into salads. When eaten raw the odor 
impai-ted to the breath is exceedingly disagreeable, and, even 
cooked or prepared in salads, is not at all pleasant. It is 
said that chewing a little raw parsley will remove this an 
noyance, or a few kernels of roasted colfee, but Ave have 
never known anything but time and abstinence that did 
remedy the evil. It is to be regretted that it should be so, 
for they would otherwise be great favorites with all, and are, 
no doubt, very wholesome. 

The Leek is more used in Switzerland and Scotland, — in- 
deed, in all cold, mountainous regions, both on account of 
its being hardy, and because its exceeding pungency is a 
recommendation in these cold regions. It is a very important 
ingredient in two Scotch dishes that were the noted favorites 
of King James I., the " Cock-a-leekie " and " Haggis." They 
claim in Wales and Scotland that the leek was brought 
to them by St. David, The blanched stem is the best 
for soups and stews, and is more esteemed in France than 
with us. 

The Chive is a native of Britain and France. It is some- 
times found wild in the pastures, and, if eaten by cows, im- 
parts a very offensive taste to the milk. It is milder than 
the onion or leek. The leaves are the part used for broths 
and soups, and in some kinds of omelets, especially in 
France, it is thought to be indispensable. With us, it is 
more frequently found in the dishes at restaurants and hotels 
than at our private tables. 

The Garlic is the most oifensive of the onion tribe. It 
grows naturally in Sicily and the South of France, and from 
there found its way into Britain and America. It is very 
little used with us, but is found at almost aU tables in Italy, 
though the root is only boiled to season soups and other 
dishes, and removed as soon as it has imparted a sufficiently 
strong flavor. 



234 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

The Shallot grows wild in Palestine, and was introduced 
into England by the Crusaders. It is still more pungent in 
taste than the garlic, but not as offensive. Used in pickles, 
soups, and made dishes. 

The Rosamhole is a native of Denmark. It partakes of 
the character of both the garlic and the shallot, and is used 
in a similar manner. 



LVII. 

POT-HERBS AND SALADS. 

THE number of plants and vegetables that are of excel- 
lent quality, and can be profitably cultivated for pur- 
poses of pot-herbs and salads, are so numerous that we can 
only mention the names, with here and there an item, that 
we may rouse the young housekeeper's curiosity sufficiently 
to tempt her to search for tlieir full history herself and we 
hope lead others to do the same. 

In Burr's " Field and Garden Vegetables of America," is 
a " full description of nearly eleven hundred species and 
varieties, with directions for propagation, culture, and use." 
Among them are many species and varieties which make 
excellent salads and greens. 

The Leaf-heet is much esteemed. The leaf is used for greens. 
The rib, which is called Swiss chard., is cut out, boiled, 
and dressed like asparagus, Avhich it resembles in taste. 
There are five varieties, of which the silver-leaf is the best. 

Three varieties of the Nightshade — the white from East 
India, the large-leafed China malabar, and the red malabar 
from China — furnish a desirable addition to our pot-herbs. 
The juice from the fruit of the red variety supplies a beauti- 



POT-HERBS AND SALADS. 235 

fill color, but is not permanent. The black, or deadly night- 
shade, is poisonous. 

The Nettle, of which only one kind is mentioned, will 
grow anywhere spontaneously, but is, in many places, largely 
cultivated, and is excellent for greens. The j^oung, tender 
buds or shoots are nipped oft" as they appear, and will shoot 
out again very rapidly. By being put into a green or forcing- 
house, it furnishes a good substitute for cabbage, colewort, 
or winter spinach. If placed near a flue in the hot-house in 
winter, it will supply excellent nettle-kale all through the 
winter. Lawson says : " The merits of tliis generally ac- 
counted troublesome plant have been quite overlooked. 
Aside from the food it can supply, the stalk is quite fibrous, 
and may be made into ropes and cordage and good thread ; 
besides a white, beautiful linen-like cloth can be manufac- 
tured from it, but it has never been cultivated for that pur- 
pose. It is an Asiatic plant." 

Spinach is one of the most important of this class of edi- 
bles. It grows wild in England. Flanders supplies us with 
some of the cultivated kinds. The orache, or mountain spin- 
ach, is quite hardy and very good. It is a native of Tartary, 
and was brought into England by Sir John Banks. 

The Qxnnoa, a native of Mexico, is easily cultivated here. 
The leaves are used like spinach. The seeds in some places 
are made to take the place of corn or wheat for bread, and 
are excellent food for poultry. 

The English and Irish Sea-beet are much liked in some 
places, and are easily cultivated. 

The Shepherd s-purse tastes somewhat like cabbage, but is 
much more delicate. That which is raised and marketed in 
Philadelphia is wonderfully juicy, and the leaf grows quite 
large. 

Of the salad plants, Celery stands among the first. It is a 
native of England, and has many varieties, too numerous to 
mention here. 



236 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Lettuce is an Asiatic plant, and, like celery, is an important 
and almost indispensable article in preparing chicken, lobster, 
or other mixed salads. It is also eaten plain with simply- 
salt or dressed with vinegar, sugar, and oil ; or, what is better 
still, a few drops of vinegar, Avitli sugar and rich cream. 

The Endive, a native of China and Japan, is largely culti- 
vated in America, and by many considered one of the best 
autumn, winter, and early spring salads. 

Corn-salad, brought from the South of France and Europe, 
is sometimes boiled or cooked like spinach ; but usually the 
young leaves are dressed for salad, and in winter and early 
spring are excellent. 

Cress, or pepper-grass, belongs to Persia, but is largely 
raised here ; eaten as a salad, either separately or mixed with 
lettuce or celery. The varieties are quite numerous. 

Horse-radish and Mustard are from Europe. The young 
tips are sometimes mixed Avith other greens, and their natu- 
ral pungency adds quite a pleasant flavor to less highly 
spiced pot-herbs. 

The Nastiirtkim is from Peru. The seeds make a pickle 
almost equal to the caper, and the young shoots furnish a 
fine, pungent salad ; and in all its many varieties it is a 
pretty garden ornament. 

The Piorslain, Rape, and Bochei are natives of Europe. 

The Samphire is used as a seasoning for salads. Tarragon, 
from Siberia, is also put in salads for seasoning, and much 
used steeped in vinegar for dressings of various kinds. 

Valeriana, as a salad, is by some thought more desirable 
than corn-salad, and is likewise a very beautiful garden orna- 
ment. 

All these and many more can be grown in our own coun- 
try, and most of them with very little trouble. Interesting 
statements respecting them can be found in most of the agri- 
cultural books, which are well Avorth reading. 



MISTAKES IN COOKING VEGETABLES. 237 

LYIIL 
MISTAKES IN COOKING VEGETABLES. 

FRESH vegetables, properly prepared, are among the 
most important articles of food. They mostly abound 
in saline substances that are indispensable to the mainte- 
nance of a healthy condition of the whole system ; but to 
secure the blessings they were designed to yield, every- 
thing depends on their being freshly gathered and carefully 
cooked. 

It is very ditficult to obtain fresldy gathered vegetables 
when one is obhged to depend on the city markets for them. 
In this, as in many other things, our farmers, and those who 
can afford even a small vegetable garden, have far more to 
be thankful for than those whose home is in the city, and 
Avhose tastes and desires extend no farther ; for although to 
those who heartily rehsh the summer productions, stale 
vegetables may be better than none, yet the use of them is 
always an unsafe experiment, making easy victims for the 
many diseases incident to the summer ; whereas we imagine 
a reasonable prodigality in eating most of the summer vege- 
tables and fruits, when they can be had every day fresh from 
the garden, is peculiarlj" conducive to the enjopnent of 
sound health. 

Then, as regards the cooking of the many kinds of vege- 
tables that are desirable only when fresh, it must be remem- 
bered that many sorts have a large proportion of woody 
tissues, which require a suitable degree of heat by which 
they can be softened or decomposed before they may be 
eaten with impunity. That done, and the acid which is 
found in almost all esciilent vecfetables becomes an essential 



238 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

assistance to sound digestion, as it tends to strengthen and 
give tone to the stomach. 

Hard luater is often recommended for cooking many kinds 
of vegetables, but Ave know of none that are improved, and 
many that are injured by it. Beans and peas, for instance, 
arc injured by boiling in hard water, whereas if soft water 
is used the skin softens, loses its huskiness, and these deli- 
cate vegetables become highly nutritious. 

A little soda is used by many cooks in preparing vege- 
tables ; but it is only Avhen one is so unfortunate as to be 
unable to procure soft water to cook with that we think it 
can be tolerated. To be sure, it secures a fine green with 
some articles, such, as peas and beans, and makes them very 
tender, but this is gained at the expense of all sweetness and 
natural flavor. 

A few rules for gathering and preparing vegetables in the 
country may be given, which, if carefully observed, 'will 
secure their being brought to the table in an excellent con- 
dition, and eaten without one murmur of dissatisfaction. 

First, be sure that they were raised from the best of seed. 
It is useless to expect good vegetables unless they spring 
from the most perfect and best variety of seed. " Do men 
gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles 1 " Those who 
cultivate but a few acres simply for family use, having 
learned the importance of choosing their seed with care, are 
every year becoming more and more particular in their 
search for the finest varieties. More depends on this than 
farmers have been accustomed to think ; but seeing. Avhat 
can be done by amateur gardeners through care, and reading 
the success of other experiments, they are giving much more 
attention to this than was customary in former years. The 
result is, that there is no longer any excuse for having a 
poor article brought either from your own garden or the 
market. It is the leno-th of time it has been crathered, and 



MISTAKES IN COOKING VEGETABLES. 239 

the manner in which it has been prepared, that determines 
its excellence. 

All vegetables are injured by lying exposed to sun and 
rain ; but corn, peas, fresh beans, asjiaragus, and lettuce 
become ])erfectly worthless. They should be gathered whih; 
the dew is yet on them, brought to the house, and placed at 
ouce in a cool place where the sun will not strike upon them. 
It is better to leave corn in the husk, peas and beans in the 
pods, until it is time to prepare them for cooking. Then 
Avatch that they are not left long in water, if, indeed, you can- 
not avoid washing them entirely. Corn when taken from 
the husk needs no washing ; simply remove all the silk. If 
there is a black or rusty spot on an ear of corn, reject it 
entirely ; it shows the beginning of disease. It improves a 
mess of peas, adding greatly to their sweetness, to boil the 
■pods, after shelling, about fifteen minutes in the water you 
are about to boil the peas in. For this purpose, you must 
pour cold water over tlie pods, to remove any dust or mi- 
nute bugs that may hv. upon them ; wash quickly, and 
then leave them to drain before shelling. The peas, of course, 
after this need no washing, neither do beans. Aspara- 
gus should be Avashed quickly, to remove all dust ; but 
must on no account be left in the water a moment after it is 
clean. As soon as washed, put in a cullender to drain, and 
then over the stove to cook as soon as you can. All vege- 
tables should be laid in the saucepan in which they are to be 
cooked, with sufficient salt to season sprinkled over them ; 
thea boiling water poured on, and the Avhole brought to a 
boil immediately, else they become of a brownish color and 
look very uninviting. The salt, either put on them first or 
the water salted before they are put in, prevents the color 
changing. Then boil, or, what is better, steam them for 
the proper time, — twenty minutes for asparagus, peas, and 
corn is long enough, never over thirty minutes ; when so old 



•2iO MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

as to need longer cooking, they are too old to use at aU, 
Beans require longer time, unless very young ; from tlaree 
quarters of an hour to an hour will be necessary. 

Very few vegetables, comparatively, are as digestible raw 
as when cooked ; those used for salads, such as celery, let- 
tuce, cabbage, etc., are exceptions. Some which when raw 
are quite poisonous can, by skillful boiling, be transformed 
into our most nutritious and easily digested food ; yet the 
attempt to cook them is too often made in such a careless and 
reckless way that, although whatever poison they contain 
when raw is dispelled, the mode of cooking makes them 
about as injurious to the health as the poison could have 
been, — half raw or overcooked till they are clammy or sod- 
den, or cooked with salt and fat meat until their whole na- 
ture seems changed, — requiring a stomach like that of an 
ostrich to digest them. 

The potato, when raw, is not only unpalatable and injuri- 
ous, but is supposed to be really poisonous, while proper 
cooking changes it to one of the most palatable and healthful 
of all vegetables. 

The bitter cassava is so deadly when raw that the Indians 
use the juice to poison their arrows ; but when grated and 
pressed, to remove the juice, it is subjected to a heat which 
destroys all that is unsafe, and then we have the tapioca, so 
much prized for table use, and which is regarded by many 
physicians as far more digestible for infants than arrowroot ; 
but the S7veet cassava, from which bread is made, is, even 
when raw, free from all harmful qualities. The wake-robin, 
from which sago is made, is so poisonous that the juice will 
blister the hand ; but like the cassava, when roasted or 
boiled, is entirely free from all injurious qualities, and is, 
after being thus cooked, made into sago. 

In many of our " cook-books " mint is recommended for 
seasoning various kinds of vegetables, but we do not believe 



MISTAKES IN COOKING VEGETABLES. 241 

a good vegetable can be improved by anything that destroys 
the true natural taste. Peas may be mucli improved, we 
think, by boiling the pods, after washing them in clear soft 
water, about fifteen minutes ; then strain the water from the 
pods, bring it to a boil, add some salt to keep the peas green, 
and use as much as is needed to boil the peas themselves in. 
It gives them all the sweetness that the pod contains, 
which is sufficiently near the flavor of the pea not to impart 
any unnatural taste. A little cream may be added with the 
butter, pepper, and salt required to dress them, although we 
think tlie little water that is needed to cook them (and it 
should be very little) is far better. When we see a little mint 
advised to " give a fine flavor," we have no objection to others 
enjoying it, but confess we think it a perverted taste. 

Peas, beans, asparagus, corn, and potatoes should be either 
steamed or cooked in as little water as can be usod without 
burning them ; and to dress the first three, some of the 
water in which they are boiled should be used ; then, in 
helping them out, if any prefer them dry, it is very easy to 
take them from the dish free from liquor. 

Another great mistake consists in allowing most kinds of 
vegetables to cook too long. Some require much longer 
time to cook than others, but all need careful watching. 
Beets, turnips, carrots, parsnips, etc., need considerable cook- 
ing ; but if you go beyond a certain point they become 
watery or sodden, and lose half their excellence or are com- 
pletely ruined. Peas, corn, and potatoes should require but 
little time to be cooked sufficiently. When young, peas 
and corn do not require over fifteen or twenty minutes ; as 
they become larger or attain their full growth, thirty minutes 
may be needed ; if more than that, they are no longer fit to 
use, except for soups or meal. 

Peas, beans, asparagus, and lettuce are often injured by 
being washed too much, or by being left soaking in water. 
11 p 



242 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

AVash as little and as quickly as possible ; drain, then cover 
up the dish, and put them in a cool place out of the sun till 
ready to cook. Lettuce, particularly, will be far more crisp 
and tender if, after washing and picking it over carefully, 
it is laid on ice till needed. 



LIX. 
DIVIDED FAMILY GOVERNMENT. 

" ~r HAVE a family of young children, naturally amiable 
JL and obedient, who, while very young, seldom needed 
even slight punishment ; but as they grow older wants and 
wills are thickening, and, occasionally, natural perversity and 
' willfulness are manifested which sometimes require restraint. 
The mother's heart would shield her children from such 
denials or demands as the father sees is necessary to their 
proper education and future happiness. Her tenderness 
warps her judgment, and too frequently her speech and 
action stand opposed to mine. Hence the question must 
often arise, if she cannot control her words and feelings in 
the presence of the children and servants, how far am I 
bound, in view of the future well-being of our offspring, to 
push my authority, and, as the father and head of the house, 
insist upon her yielding to my judgment without such oppo- 
sition ; and if I am compelled peremptorily to insist upon 
her silence, when I am attempting to control our children, 
what is her duty 1 " 

These questions, which have been addressed to us, are full 
of interest ; and the answer, if given simply from the first 
impressions derived from the perusal of the letter, without 
mature deliberation, would seem comparatively easy. But a 



DIVIDED FAMILY GOVERNMENT. 243 

few moments' careful reflection will suffice to show that, 
looked at in all the various aspects necessary to form a thor- 
oughly correct judgment, it is a very intricate and important 
subject, for wliich no one general rule can be made to meet 
the necessities of all. The happiness of the family, as a 
whole, and the future welfare of the children, require a 
united government ; but, unfortunately, we do not see it 
to any wide extent. Children, who should be a bond of 
union, are too often the cause of dissension and division. 
If the father is stern, arbitrary, and unreasonable in deal- 
ing with the little ones, a judicious mother, who has suffered 
for them and watched over them by day and by night 
from their birth, naturally shrinks from the effects which 
severity or irritability must have on their young and 
tender minds, knowing, in almost every case, that gentle- 
ness and love will soften the heart and secure obedience, 
while coldness and harshness will harden, and provoke re- 
bellion. 

Or, perhaps, on the other hand, the father is loving and 
tender, yet firm ; fully aware that foolish and injudicious 
indulgence, although for the present gratifying, will in the 
end work out, not the peaceable fruits of righteousness, but, 
for the children, years of sin and sorrow ; for the parents, 
wretchedness, tribulation, and anguish. With a fother 
whose constant thought is to seek the best interest of his 
children, even though it can be obtained only at the ex- 
pense of some self-denial, if the mother co-operates, the 
training of their family will be a labor fuU of love and glad- 
ness. "When both parents see eye to eye, and seek God's 
blessing on every step, they may rest assured that their chil- 
dren, thus led in the way they should go, will, in mature 
age, rise up and call them blessed. 

It is very strange that parents, with so many examples 
which should on the one hand warn them against over- 



244 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

indulgence, and on the other encourage them in the adminis- 
tration of all needed discipline, should not learn to avoid 
disputes or discussion in the presence of their families. 
"When they so far forget their children's best interests 
as to wrangle and dispute whenever a case of discipline 
is necessary, and allow children and servants to hear and 
see the whole, they not only lose the respect of those 
who should naturally look to them for guidance and 
help, but, more than all, they do lasting injury to those 
whom they should protect and love. One or two speci- 
mens of divided counsels and the mischief is done. Children 
are quick to observe ; they turn to the parent who they 
learn will be most ready to hide their faults or overlook 
their short-comings for help to escape punishment, or to se- 
cure the gratification of every childish whim ; but they soon 
learn to care little for either parent, for the selfish love of a 
child who has lost respect and reverence for father or mother 
is of little value. If the father commands and the mother, 
openly or privately, cancels the injunction, or the mother 
permits an indulgence and the father revokes the permis- 
sion, the child will soon become angry and stubborn ; and 
even if not daring to utter reproach and insolence openly, 
the spirit of bitterness and revolt is aroused. If parents 
were seeking to destroy their children, they could scarcely 
find any means so well calculated to accomplish the object. 
But the mischief does not end here ; the parents them- 
selves become embittered by such dissensions. Sometimes 
it leads to disputes and quarrels, and sometimes to parti- 
sanship ; and thus the child's selfishness, jealousy, and 
mercenary nature are cultivated. In such divided house- 
holds better far are early deaths than life and health for 
children that must otherwise grow up under such malign 
influences. 

If parents cannot see alike, in matters of family govern- 



DIVIDED FAMILY GOVERNMENT. 245 

ment, then they should agree between themselves on some 
compromise ; but in the presence of their children, these 
dillcrences ought never to be mentioned. Even if one 
parent is mistaken, it is better far to pass the mistake by, 
unnoticed, than that a dispute should arise, or that the other 
parent should interfere in the presence of servants or chil- 
dren. In almost all such cases there is blame on both sides ; 
but, right or wrong, it is better that one should yield in- 
stantly and let the other decide, for the time being, than 
to attempt to right the wrong in the presence of any one, par- 
ticularly in that of children. It is not hard to do this ; 
and, parents ! if you truly love each other, it should be 
very sweet and easy kindly and unselfishly to discuss the 
matter under consideration ; but let the husband dismiss 
during the discussion all idea of authoritij. It is an ugly 
Avord between husband and wife at all times ; and in the 
endeavor to settle a disputed point, if you seek for any 
good results, keep it as far out of sight as possible. Go to 
your wife in the same spirit that influenced you while woo- 
ing her, and speak mth the same tenderness ; we think 
words thus spoken will be like oil on the troubled waters, 
and bring you into closer and more harmonious union than 
any commands can do. 

But while settling any disputed point with regard to the 
management of children, it should be constantly remembered 
by the father that, of necessity, the mother must have more 
to do with their early years, and can hardly fail to under- 
stand their peculiarities better than he can do. It is only a 
few moments at a time that the father can spend with 
tliem, while the mother must watch over them hourly, 
providing for aU their constantly recurring wants. To 
her belongs, naturally, the care of their health and early 
habits 5 to her the watching and weariness in times of 
sickness, and the harassing toil of nursing them through 



246 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

the fretful period of convalescence, back to soundness and 
vigor. 

In the few hours the father's business allows him to spend 
with his family, he may be able to see the weak points more 
clearly than the mother can do, who must be always with 
them. He may see plainly how, at times, she weakly yields 
to their caprices, allowing herself to become a slave to them, 
often because too weary to be firm. This is the time when 
his love, tenderness, and sympathy for his wife, the mother 
of his children, should be most earnestly manifested ; when 
he can prove which is the stronger, which better fitted to be 
the true head of the house. These weaknesses, from what- 
ever cause they spring, should not be noticed before the httle 
despots ; when alone, the husband, with the greatest kind- 
ness and gentleness, can show his wife how such indulgence 
will lay the foundation for much present trouble, and per- 
haps for a corrupt and disgraceful future. If she has good 
sense, and he, with unselfish desire for the good of all, does 
not seek by arrogant dictation to set himself above her, we 
can hardly imagine a wife and mother who would not ear- 
nestly endeavor to make the necessity of such appeals very 
unfrequent. 

But if the mother is frivolous and self-indulgent, too weak 
and indolent to take up the cross of refusing childish, un- 
reasonable importunities, for the glory that shall croAvn her 
when, by her firmness, her children have become noble men 
and women, — then, God help her who can thus lay the ax 
to the root of all domestic happiness ! For the husband 
and father to push his authority or command silence with the 
children at home, constantly exposed 'to such influences, can 
do no good ; it only increases the difficulty. We know of 
no better or surer way to save the children than to remove 
them from home and a weak mother's cruel indulgence, and 
place them in some school where health and morals may be 



HOW CAN WE SECURE GOOD SERVANTS 1 247 

carefully watched over, but one sufficiently strict to save them 
from the evils of too great indulgence. This is a hard task ; 
but it has saved many children whose parents, either one or 
both, were too foolishly tender or too cruelly indolent to 
control them, as God has commanded, in their early years. 



LX. 

HOW CAN WE SECURE GOOD SERVANTS? 

MANY inquiries reach us, both from city and country, 
as to the best and most certain way to secure, if not 
the best, at least tolerably good servants. It is a question 
impossible to answer with any degree of certainty. The very 
best inanagers, the kindest and most conscientious, are no 
more sure of being suited than those who work without 
method, and are not governed by the law of kindness. 

" Where shall we apply when searching for help 1" is a 
question that is asked very frequently, and is equally impos- 
sible to answer. Some say, " Advertise." The next will 
give you such a history of her trials from advertising, as will 
most effectually frighten you from that mode of help-seeking. 
But they will tell you to go to one intelligence office, and, 
if that fails, refer you to the next best. Another will say, 
as we should, that of all places an intelligence office is the 
most disheartening and the least reliable of any. 

A lady in the country, with a large femily, who is so hap- 
py as to have two grown-up daughters for her chief assistants, 
is desirous of " obtaining a raw German or English girl, 
hoping to be able to train her to do general housework prop- 
erly," and inquires where she must apply to obtain such 
a one, " right from the sliip," before a week or two of idle- 



248 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ness has taught her the " ways and the manners " of those 
who have been in this country longer. 

We_ have very httle experience with what are called 
" greenhorns," or girls right from the emigrant ships, though 
we doubt if they can be any more ignorant or half so un- 
manageable as many of the girls who have been in America 
for years. 

The emigrant ships which come to ISTew York land their 
passengers at Castle Garden. " The Labor Bureau of the 
Commissioners of Emigration " is under the supervision of 
Eugene Casserly, and we are told by reliable authority, that 
unless friends have secured employment for them before they 
reach our shores, their names, if they come seeking work, 
are registered in an intelligence office there. Eor any one 
proposing to seek servants from among those just landed, it 
may be well to go to that office, when these ships first land 
their passengers, and endeavor to form as correct a judgment 
as is possible, before actual trial. We are also told that some 
little conversation with the officers of the ship will sometimes 
make the selection easier or more satisfactory. During the 
tedious passage the officers have many opportunities of seeing 
their passengers under circumstances that can, if they choose 
to notice, enable them to form a reasonably correct idea of 
their character and capacities ; though Ave fear that officers 
on board emigrant ships seldom give much heed to those 
under their care. 

A reader inquires " if it would be safe for a young house- 
keeper to attempt to train a 'raw recruit,' and, if so, from 
which of all the countries whose people flock to our 
land we would advise her to seek for a good, reliable ser- 
vant." 

It requires much patience and no small degree of skill to 
take a girl from another country, whose whole life and asso- 
ciations have been entirely different from our own, and bring 



HOW CAN WE SECURE GOOD SERVANTS? 249 

her into a new life by teaching her to forget all her 
early habits and modes of working. It is a great and un- 
common gift to be able to do this with patient kindness, and 
yet with such authority as insures obedience. Success in 
such an undertaking is a blessing both to the teacher and the 
pupil. Now and then we find one who, under such teaching 
and benevolent guidance, has fully repaid all the thought 
and care Avhich has been bestowed upon her, and who, by 
her fidelity and unwearied energy, has won the love and 
grateful appreciation of all, and is looked upon as the good 
angel of the family. But we regret to say such characters 
are rare ; and though, in some instances, the impatience and 
irritability of the mistress may repress much of good which, 
vmder better auspices, might have been developed, yet we do 
not believe as a general rule that the chief blame should rest 
with the mistress. Not one in a hundred — and that we 
fear is a high proportion — of all the Irish that come to our 
country can, by any amount of care, patience, or indefatigable 
teaching, be transformed into a neat, energetic, faithful, 
truth-telling servant ; and as for gratitude, once in a while 
you may find one who remembers your faithful teaching, 
your kindness and care in times of sickness or trouble, who 
cannot be turned from her fidelity and attachment to you ; 
but for the most part all this vanishes like the morning dew, 
at the first chance for easier work or higher wages. 

The English and Scotch, as far as our observation goes, are 
more inclined to make their employers' interest their own. 
They labor as faithfidly, and watch with an eye to economy 
quite as earnestly, when left in charge alone, as when the 
master and mistress are near them. Of course there are 
exceptions to every rule ; and we speak more from our own 
experience than from what others say. 

The Swiss and Swedes are usually smart and capable ; but 
their inability to understand our language when they first 
11* 



250 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

come to us, makes their instruction difficult and tedious, 
unless the mistress is well versed in foreign languages. 

A good Welsh gui is one of the best, — usually neat, 
active, and quick to learn ; and as the pastors of the Welsh 
churches hold it a part of their duty to exercise careful su- 
pervision over those under their charge, that acts as a great 
safeguard. 

There are no better servants to be found than such as 
come from Canada and Nova Scotia, if one can secure such 
as bring from their own country a genuinely good character. 
Naturally hardy and industrious, they are not the land of 
girls who begin by asking, " How many in the family 1 How 
large is the washing? Have you stationary wash-tubs? 
What privileges do you allow your girls ? " But whatever 
they are told to do, if within the compass of their ability, 
they do it more willingly and cheerfully than most. But 
there are not a large number of the Swiss, Swedish, Welsh, 
or Nova Scotia girls to be had, nor are all who come to our 
country of the better sort ; so that whichever way we turn for 
domestic help, one is almost compelled to feel as if buying 
tickets in a lottery. 



LXI. 

THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 

IT is the prevalent opinion among housekeepers that the 
guest-chamber, or " spare room," must, in cA^ery respect, 
be the best and most desirable chamber in the house. We 
think this a mistaken idea. Of course the room should be 
pleasant and inviting, furnished as tastefully and with as 
many conveniences as can be afforded, without curtailing the 



THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 251 

comfort and pleasures of the family, and with such regard to 
comfort that a guest, on entering, may feel at once not only 
at home, but as if surrounded with kindness and thoughtfid 
care. All this can be accomplished without appropriating 
the largest and most commodious room for that purpose. 
The chambers most used, and, after the sitting-room, most 
necessary to the comfort and happiness of the family, to 
whom the house is home, and not a mere transient stopping- 
place, should be the best ventilated, the largest, and most 
convenient. The mother's chamber and the nursery — if 
there must be two apartments, they should be separated only 
by a door, that the mother's care may be near at hand — ought 
to be chosen with reference to the health and enjoyment of 
those who are expected to occupy them for years. The 
"spare room" should be a secondary consideration, for our 
guests are but temporary residents of our rooms, to whom, in- 
deed, must be given all the time and attention that family 
cares will allow ; while to the permanent inmates the house is 
a resting-place from hard labor, a refuge from outside care 
for some of the family, and to make it such to husband and 
children, the housekeeper has a daily routine of duties which 
can be wonderfully lightened by pleasant surroundings. And 
thus, for reasons having a bearing on every member of the 
household, it seems to us very desirable that more thought, 
care, and expense be given to secure a pleasant outlook, 
a thorough ventilation, and attractive and convenient furni- 
ture for the family rooms, than for the one set apart for those 
who, however honored and beloved, can of necessity remain 
but a few days. 

We would by no means leave the impression that a family 
should selfishly retain their regular apartments when so many 
guests are present that several rooms are needed. In times 
of large gatherings it is very delightful to see each member 
of the household contribute some part of his or her rights 



252 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

to the free and cordial entertainment of friends. On such 
occasions, if they are not too frequent, it is quite amusing 
and conducive to much sport and cheerfulness to meet in 
family council and discuss the ways and means that may be 
employed to stretch the house, so that twenty people can be 
comfortably lodged in a space where usually eight or ten 
have only sufficient room. This, for a short time, is no hard- 
ship, — it is like a picnic,— and every child, from its earliest 
years, should be taught there is a pleasure in giving up rights, 
whims, and fancies, connected with its own special apart- 
ments, for the accommodation of others. The lesson is very 
easily taught, when they see that this is only a temporary 
thing; knowing this, when the pressure abates, they will 
return to their rooms better prepared to estimate and appreci- 
ate the care and aifection which has so pleasantly consulted 
their taste and comfort in arranging the apartment which is 
set aside for them. 

It is painful to glance into rooms in daily use, and see no 
indication that a moment's thought has ever been bestowed 
upon their adornment, or to fill them with objects that, to 
the children's eyes, will unite grace and beauty with useful- 
ness for the family's every-day life. " 0, this will answer ! 
It's good enough /tts^ /or oior oivn family." But look into 
the guest-chamber, for which enough has been expended to 
compel pinching in all that belongs to home and family com- 
forts, and all for the ostentatious disj)lay of hospitality ! 
When you see such incongruities and contrasts between the 
furnishing of the family apartments and the " spare room," 
you wiU find the same rule runs through everything con- 
nected with the family. For every-day use the commonest 
kind of delf, with odd bits of broken or defaced china, mis- 
mated cups and saucers, of every variety of color, and the 
food carelessly prepared, and of the poorest and cheapest 
quality, showing the same unwise disregard for family com- 



THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 253 

fort. But let a visitor appear, and the table is dazzling 
with silver and cut-glass, and loaded with dainties over 
which the utmost skill in cooking has been expended. This 
is all wrong. Home should be first, company of second- 
ary importance. Let your family always have the best 
you can reasonably aiford ; then cordially welcome your 
friends to share the good and pleasant things with you. It 
is not easy to teach children to love home, and prefer its 
society to all others, if they see that all the good and pleas- 
ant and beautiful things you possess are only to be used 
when you have visitors. You have no right to hope that 
your children will have good manners or be refined, if they 
see only the coarsest of everything when alone with you, but 
are called upon, with company, to put on company manners. 
Love of home, refinement, and good manners are blessings 
that will rust out and be destroyed, if not brightened by 
constant daily use. 

But we have wandered out of the guest-chamber, and will 
now retiirn. Because we urge that the family apartments 
should have the first claim, we would not be understood that 
no thought should be given to the room your friends will 
occupy ; we only claim that it should not be paramount to 
all others. Select the furniture with such care and taste as 
your means will allow. It is not necessary that one should 
be rich to do this in the most perfect manner. Be sure that 
the bed is comfortably made, and at all times scrupulously 
clean. If used only for one night by one person, all the linen 
should be changed for every new-comer. A white spread, 
even if not of the best and heaviest, is always an improve- 
ment for any bed. Have a spare blanket neatly folded and 
laid across the foot of the bed, unless you have a closet in the 
room ; then it is a protection from dust to put it there. A 
low easy-chair or rocker is always desirable, for a lady friend 
may bring a young infant with her ; then, if in accordance 



254 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

with your ability, furnish easy-chairs or a lounge, but no 
bedchamber should be crowded with furniture. 

A table with a drawer, or small neat writing-desk, with an 
inkstand, a few pens, paper, and envelopes, are desirable, as 
friends often come unexpectedly, and neglect to bring the 
needed articles. To find such conveniences ready at hand 
will be taken as a kindly attention, which is among the little 
things that make a guest-chamber homelike. 

A brush and comb, a cushion and pins, should be kept on 
every bureau, and the " spare room " is no exception to this 
rule. In this room one or two bureau-drawers should be left 
open for the use of guests. The comb and brush, like those 
in other chambers, should be washed every week if used, or 
after every new occupant. A few drops of ammonia, put into 
a little soap and water, will cleanse a brush easily ; rinse well 
in clear water, and stand it up to dry. For the wash-stand, 
good soap, plenty of towels, and a nail-brush should be pro- 
vided. The water-pitcher must be kept filled ; a water- 
bottle, with a glass turned over it, or a decanter with a 
stopper, is better for drinking water than a pitcher, as water 
left exposed to the air in a sleeping-room soon becomes im- 
pure and unwholesome. A slop pail or jar is needed by the 
side of the wash-stand, unless the wash-basins are set to be 
filled from the pipes, and emptied by the waste-pipe. A 
match-box, filled, is always an important article in every room, 
and a little basket or cornucopia is needed to hang by the glass, 
into which the hair from the comb and burnt matches may be 
put. This should be emptied when the slops are taken away ; 
but hair must never be thrown in the sink, as it clogs the 
pipes ; always burn it. 

Of course, when there is no necessity for close economy, 
there are a thousand elegances with which it is perfectly 
proper to beautify, not only the family rooms, but the guest- 
chamber ; but the things here specified are convenient and 



THE CARE OF INFANTS. 255 

some really necessary for all sleeping-rooms, and can be pro- 
cured or made by home ingenuity. Beautify and enrich the 
guest-room as lavishly as good taste and your ability will 
allow, only let the family chamber be not neglected for that 
purpose. 



LXII. 

THE CARE OF INFANTS. 

" A EE our little ones so related to household cares, that 
iV Mrs. Beecher will give young mothers, now and 
then, a few words of instruction on the management of in- 
fants 1 I am a young mother as weU as young housel^eeper, 
and although not very competent, I, and probalily many 
others, could easier work our way unaided to a respectable 
standing in all that pertains to the manual labor of the 
household, than risk mistakes in the care and training of 
our babies. I think the little ones very necessary to the 
formation of a true household, and am ready to accept any 
care and annoyance, if I may oidy be certain tliat I am not 
giving my strength for naught, but so that in these early 
days I may be enabled to ward off iUness, and keep my baby 
healthy and vigorous. It is usually happy and quiet ; but 
there are times when mind and body are taxed to the utmost 
limit of my endurance. It often has spells of crying, when 
no skill which I possess can soothe the disturbance, what- 
ever may be the cause, or lull the little one to sleep. In no 
way, either by medical advice or the exercise of my own 
judgment, can I discover the cause, or find any indication 
which would show the child to be unhealthy." 

We most certainly consider the little ones very pecu- 



256 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

liarly a part of " The Household " department, and will 
cheerfully give any assistance to young mothers that is with- 
in our power. We have before this been called upon to 
answer similar questions, and see no reason to change the 
answers we have felt to be correct. 

Young mothers are frequently told, we think very un- 
wisely, "You have no cause for anxiety. Most infants 
either have their crying spells until they are tliree months 
old, or are very quiet and serene up to that period, and then 
change and cry, and are restless most of the time till some 
months later." Believing this, the young mother tries to 
possess her soul in patience, and struggles on, waiting for the 
good time coming. But we think there is always some defi- 
nite cause for a trouble which robs the mother for months 
of a large portion of the pleasure her infant should bring her, 
and makes the new world into which the httle pilgrim has 
just entered so truly " a vale of tears." The cause once 
ascertained, there must be some remedy found, through the 
large experience of so many mothers who have been harassed 
and perplexed by similar trials. 

Often kind friends manifest their affection and interest 
injudiciously through their anxiety to see the new-comer, 
when both mother and child would be much safer for a feAv 
days of perfect, uninterrupted quiet. In the early days when 
an infant should be forming the habit of long naps, and at 
regular times, and when the mother should be kept from any 
excitement, these friendly calls begin, and each caller has 
great curiosity _;ms^ to look at the new baby, ovjust to wake 
it one moment to see whose eyes it has borrowed. This 
incense offered to maternal pride is too mighty, and the 
mother's judgment bows down before it. If she allows this 
foolish innovation once, she must twice, and soon a restless 
habit is formed, and short naps and long cries may be ex- 
pected. It takes but two or three such friendly visits in 



THE CARE OF INFANTS. 257 

tlie course of one day, to excite the child so that sleep be- 
comes impossible ; and then, although it is not needing food, 
when all other means fail to quiet it, what more natural than 
to put it to the breast 1 But broken rest and nursing too 
frequently will assuredly cause pain, and crying will, of 
course, be the result. In such cases, no remedy may be 
hoped for until those to whom the child is committed, and 
who alone should be responsible for forming its habits, have 
learned that sound judgment and good common-sense must 
be their guides in the care of their helpless little ones, and 
not maternal pride. 

But, on the other hand, take a child who from its birth is 
trained in the most sensible manner, — washed, dressed, and 
fed at fixed hours, and laid, -ndthout rocking, to sleep in the 
crib, where no foolish friend, indulgent aunt, or grand- 
mother is permitted to disturb or see it until it wakes nat- 
urally and is ready for the next meal. All through the day 
it sleeps, or serenely watches the dancing shadows on the 
wall, or the bright sun through the curtains ; and but for the 
little cooing, rippling sounds that occasionally give token of 
its presence, one hardly realizes that there is a babe in the 
house. But at night the little one becomes restless and be- 
gins to cry. Every means for quieting it are resorted to. It 
is patted, trotted, rocked, and sung to, but aU is of no avail. 
What can be the matter 1 

Let us take this uneasy little mortal. Ah ! we see. In 
dressing it in the morning you pinned the little waists as 
tightly as you could draw them, so that the body is as round 
and unyielding as a marble piUar. The morning bath and 
change of clothes brought some relief from the night's fet- 
ters ; and for the first part of the day, or, if uncommonly 
strong and healthy, until night, the child may be quiet and 
endure ; but by night, release from so many hours' bondage 
is absolutely needed. How would you like to have your 

Q 



258 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

clothes thus bound about you 1 No room for free breathing, 
no elasticity of body ! What chance for healthy digestion 1 
After many hours, during the day, of perfect inactivity, what 
wonder if by night the poor baby feels this compression in- 
supportable ! Its little limbs must ache, and the whole body 
become stiff and numb. But instead of relief, when the 
child is disrobed and night-clothes substituted, it is only to 
tighten the bands, and leave it to pass the long hours of 
darkness as much like a mummy as before. 

When Ave see a child thus bound, we think it would 
afford us pleasure to act as dressing-maid to the mother long 
enough to teach her what torture she is thoughtlessly inflict- 
ing on her helpless babe. It has no way of attracting your 
attention and begging for relief but through tears. If the 
mother was subjected to the same distress for once, she would 
ever after understand why her baby lifts up its voice like a 
trumpet, to tell her of her sins. 

Whenever an infant begins to cry, without any apparent 
cause, by day or by night, let your first act be to examine its 
clothing ; loosen it, remove the pins, or untie the strings, 
and see if the lungs have free space to expand, and the body 
a chance to move every limb and muscle. Rub the body 
gently with your warm hand, particularly the back, lungs, 
and bowels, to promote the circulation which the barbarous 
swaddling-bands have all day impeded. Try this remedy, 
particularly at night, and, unless you again ''put on the 
screws," in most cases' your baby will fall into a peaceful 
slumber, and you may hope for unbroken rest. 

But here is another whose garments, are all sensibly ad- 
justed, yet its piteous cries are enough to make the heart 
ache. What is the matter 1 Touch the little blue hands, and 
you will find them like ice. Take the child in your lap ; 
draw your chair to the fire ; heat a blanket and wrap about 
it ; lay it on the stomach, across your lap, holding the cold 



THE CARE OF INFANTS. 259 

hands in one of yours ; shake out the foolishly long robes, 
till, hidden somewhere in this mass of flannel and embroid- 
ery, you find the numb little toes, and hold them toward the 
lire till warm. See how it stretches its feet to the fire, and 
puts the pretty face close up to your warm hands. Many a 
child who has cried for hours, taxing all the mother's strength 
and skill, and filling her heart with alarm, will, under this 
simple treatment, in a few minutes be fast asleep. Only 
turning a child over in the crib — anything to change its 
position when you find that it begins to cry or becomes rest- 
less before its nap is finished — will sometimes soothe it to 
quiet slumber, give it the benefit of a long sleep, and you 
sufficient time to accomplish many things which must have 
been laid aside had baby waked too soon. 

Endeavor to imagine yourself in an infant's place when it 
manifests symptoms you do not well understand. You wrap 
its hands and feet so closely, when you lay it down to sleep, 
that it cannot stir. Could you remain two hours thus fet- 
tered without becoming cramped and full of pain 1 Loosen 
the wrappings ; shake up the pillow and turn it over occa- 
sionall}^ that the little head may rest on a cool spot (and, by 
the way, a good hair pillow, not too full, and well beaten 
every day, that it may not become lumpy, is far more health- 
ful for any child than feathers). If awake, change its posi- 
tion ; or if it has lain long, take it up, toss it gently, and 
play with it awhile to give it a pleasant variety, and cause 
the blood to circulate freely through the whole body. 

If these simple methods do not pacify a crying child, it is 
very probable that some of the above-mentioned causes have 
produced colic ; but do not give the simplest medicine till 
you have tried what virtue there is in an enema of tepid 
water. Unless the crying indicates the beginning of some 
acute disease, we have invariably found the effects almost 
magical, and in no case will it be hurtful. 



2 GO MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ISTever nurse your child when you are chilled, fatigued, or 
terrified. The child, however hungry, must Avait, or be 
otherwise fed, until your own system becomes quiet. It 
must be a very strong child who will not suffer from the 
nourishment the mother offers while under such disturbance. 
If your excitement proceeds from fear, go to your husband 
or some friend who has the power to soothe or talk you 
into quietude, before you see your child. If fatigued, sit 
down and rest ; if overheated, wash your face and hands in 
cool water, keeping out of any current of air, and become 
thorouglily cool before you nurse your baby. 

If, unfortunately,, you have allowed yourself to be over- 
come by anger, keep far away from the little one, till you 
have asked God to still the tempest, and feel that by his 
grace you are at peace. If in such an unhappy state you 
dare to perform a mother's sweetest duty, your child will 
bring you to repentance before many hours elapse. 

In early youth we were once compelled to watch by a 
child in convulsions. This was among our first painful ex- 
periences, and when we were absent from home. To our 
dying day we shall never forget the mother's dumb anguish 
when told that the child must die. We afterward learned 
that she had been furiously angry with her husband. The 
angry voices frightened the child, and to still its crying, even 
in the fierce heat of her passion, she put the babe to her 
breast. The physician knew of her ungovernable temper, 
and, boarding with her, had been the witness of the morn- 
ing's tornado. Over the suffering little creature, he sternly 
told her that her temper had killed her child. We never 
saw her bvit once after that sad trial, but the marks of the 
penalty wliich followed so quickly upon her sin were still 
stamped upon her face. 

Mothers do not enough understand or believe these facts, 
because they are not accustomed to trace the effect to the 



PERSONAL NEATNESS. 2G1 

cause ; but a physician Avho looks carefully into the cases 
which come under his care will assure you that this is no 
fiction. A mother at all times is called upon to guard well 
her own actions, and to practice much self-denial for the sake 
of her offspring, but never more than when her child draws 
its nourishment from her breast ; and never are judgment and 
care in the clothing, in the fashioning and adjusting of it, 
more important than while the babe is incapable of making 
known its wants or discomforts except by crying. 



LXIII. 

PERSONAL NEATNESS. 

a "^ HOSE who have the oversight of household affairs, and 
_ perhaps are also compelled to perform much of the 
manual labor themselves, cannot be expected to keep their 
garments at all times spotlessly clean, still less can they 
preserve their hands soft and delicate ; yet there is far too 
much inexcusable carelessness about personal appearance, 
among tliose who are called upon to be always active and 
industrious, as well as among tliose who have fewer respon- 
sibilities. 

" Well, I, for one, don't see how a farmer's or mechanic's 
wife can help it ; she is obliged to rise early to prepare the 
breakfast, or see that it is being properly prepared ; then 
the milk requires early attention, or perhaps butter and 
cheese are to be made : one duty follows another in such 
quick succession, that from the time the housewife rises in 
the morning until after dinner, at least, she is compelled to 
work rapidly if she would be through in proper season. 
What time has she to think about her own personal appear- 



2G2 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ance 1 A fine housewife that must be, who would feel 
obliged to stop in the midst of some important work to see 
if her hair was in company order, or that no spot of any kind 
had soiled her dress or apron. It is all very well for ladies 
to be thus particular, but laboring people have no spare 
moments for any such ill-timed neatness." 

We do not expect you to be always " in company order," 
as you understand that term : that would be exceedingly in- 
consistent ; yet Ave could never understand why one's own 
family — those whom we love, and with whom we hope to 
spend our days — should not have as strong claims upon our 
thoughts, time, and personal appearance as those whom we 
seldom see ; and we do know that one can work, and work 
hard, and yet be at all times so tidy that she need not be 
mortified to be caught hy company. Let us give you a few 
hints which good common-sense can easily enlarge. 

When retiring at night give the hair a thorough brushing, 
not only for your own comfort and to promote a healthy 
condition of the hair, and remove all dust that through the 
day will naturally settle in it, but also to secure greater ex- 
pedition in dressing in the morning ; this done, fold it up 
loosely, draw a net or very thin cap over to prevent tangling : 
with tliis precaution it should not take long when you rise 
to smooth and arrange it neatly, though, unfortunately, 
smooth and neatly arranged hair is no longer fashionable ; 
but it is hoped that while at work, even those who bow 
down most subserviently to the fickle goddess, Fashion, so 
arrange that no loose hairs are flying. 

It is convenient to have morning-wrappers made with a 
narrow ruffle round the neck of the same material as the 
dress ; or, if yours are not so made, before retiring baste or pin 
in a simple coUar or ruffle, that no needless time may be spent 
in dressing. If you are not accustomed to a full bath every 
morning, a thorough bath at night is very desirable, even if 



PERSONAL NEATNESS. 263 

only a sponge bath can be obtained, and then a copious wash- 
ing before dressing will occupy but a few moments. The teeth 
should be well brushed, and the mouth and throat faithfully 
rinsed in cold water morning and night and after each meal ; 
no hurry of work should be an excuse for neglecting this duty, 
if not for neatness and comfort, for health's sake. The hair 
in order, face and hands washed, and teeth brushed, it will 
then require but a few minutes' time longer to be ready to 
leave your chamber and go to your early morning labors in 
the neatest working order. 

A large apron made from heavy brown or white " butchers' 
linen" is much neater and more serviceable than calico or 
gingham ; it does not wrinkle so easily, and if wet will not 
become limp and useless so soon. The sleeve of a morning- 
dress should be large enough at the bottom to be easily folded 
back above the elbow and pinned up ; or, if preferred, a 
deep cuff is very convenient, as during work it can be un- 
buttoned and turned back in the same way. Put a button 
and a loop of tape or strong cord about a quarter of a yard 
apart, on four seams of the skirt at least, — before, behind, 
and on each side, — so that you can loop up the dress evenly 
instead of pinning it awkwardly back ; it is much neater and 
in the end will save time, and certainly it keeps the dress from 
being soiled at the bottom, and thus saves much washing. 

Now go to work with bare arms, a large, long apron, and 
dress looped up, too short to be drabbled ; and it is very sel- 
dom, except in cases of uncommon accident, that one's work- 
ing attire may not be kept in suitable condition to meet any 
stranger or friend who may chance to call during the busy 
hours of the day. With smooth hair and a clean dress, you 
may consider yourself perfectly presentable ; all preparation 
needed should not occupy five minutes, and no caller should 
be kept waiting longer. Unpin the sleeves, unbutton the 
dress where looped up, take off the apron, wash hands and 



2G4 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

face, and smooth the hair if need be, — that is all. To keep 
a visitor waiting is not in good taste ; we tliink it inexcus- 
able, unless compelled by some unusual hindrance. In that 
case, send in your reasons or some apology for delay, when 
the caller will either wait patiently, knowing that you could 
not help it, or, if in haste, return regrets and leave. This is 
far more kind and courteous than to keep any . one waiting 
fifteen or twenty minutes, in haste perhaps, but not daring to 
leave, because thinking each moment you will enter. 

If, while preserving, or in any other way, you stain your 
hands, a few drops of muriatic acid will remove the stain at 
once. It is very convenient to have a bottle of this liquid 
always in the house, for a black, ugly stain on the hand is a 
very disagreeable sight ; but the bottle should be put in 
a secure place, where children or careless servants cannot 
meddle with it. It is poisonous, but perfectly safe if kept 
securely and used as directed. Wet the spot with the acid, 
rub quickly over the stain, and immediately wash in clear 
water, else it will burn and make your hands uncomfortably 
rough. After washing off the acid, give your hands a good 
washing in hot soapsuds, using a nail or finger brush to clean 
all round the nails, which in preserving or paring fruit are 
usually badly discolored. Those brushes which have a nail- 
cleaner at the top of the handle are the best. No one should 
be without a finger-brush, and to none is it more indispen- 
sable than to those who have the most of the family work to 
do. "Wet the brush and rub soap on it ; then brush the 
nails and inside of the hands with it before you finish wash- 
ing them. Nothing more effectually removes the stains and 
dirt, which will of course settle on the inside of the hands 
when handling pots and kettles or working over the stove ; 
and even if your hands are roughened by no such labor, the 
nail-brush is of great service. 

Often when in haste, the dress or apron is caught against a 



PERSONAL NEATNESS. 265 

liook or nail, and a sad rent is made. Whatever your hurry, 
do not go a moment with this accident unrepaired. If it 
happens while some article is over the fire which may not 
be left a moment without danger or injury, you can at least 
pin up the unsightly hole. Always carry a small pincush- 
ion, tilled with pins, in your pocket ; if you do not need one 
yourself, somebody else may be in trouble for want of only a 
pin ; and make it a point, as far as possible, to keep a needle 
ready threaded near by, so that at a moment's warning you 
can temporarily run up any rent made while at Avork, which, 
if in your poAver, is far better than pinning it up. A big 
grease spot or prominent rent on a Avoman's dress is a poor 
recomrnendation, and we confess we never see them without 
forming an unfavorable opinion, if a stranger, or experien- 
cing a feeling of mortification and annoyance, if a friend. 

A looking-glass, comb, and brush are out of place in the 
kitchen, but a small glass in a back hall or entry close by, 
with a shelf beneath for the comb and brush, are quite 
necessary for your servants, and it is a great convenience to 
have another near by for your own use, so that if hastily sum- 
moned from the kitchen, you can smooth your hair, and by 
the glass assure j'ourself that there is nothing untidy about 
you. 

There is one kind of personal neglect that we often see, 
with great surprise, and quite frequently among a class of 
people Avho have little to do with hard work, and no excuse 
for the carelessness from lack of time. We have seen, just 
above point-lace and diamonds, ears that have long been un- 
acquainted with a plentiful supply of soap and Avater. A 
pretty ear is very attractive to us. We always notice par- 
ticularly the eye and ear in CA'ery one Ave meet ; and if we 
see brown, dirty-looking streaks behind the ear, or the rim 
and inside duly, with unseemly accumulations of ear-wax 
remaining uncared for, — if it is on a girl Avho applies for a 
12 



266 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

place, we would not receive her ; if on a " lady," we find ii. 
hard to feel much respect for her. Unless in a desert, un- 
hlessed by water, there is no manner of excuse to be found 
for such neglect. 

These hints may seem quite insignificant, but we cannot 
think them so. Aside from the comfort and respectability 
of scrupulous neatness in your own habits, you are, by your 
example as you should be by your precepts, giving ideas of 
neatness and order to your children and servants. But if 
they see you come down in the morning with your hair in 
disorder, your garments dirty or torn, shoes or boots slipshod 
or imbuttoned, you may be sure your example will be very 
readily imitated, and probably greatly exaggerated. If a girl 
is uncleanly in her person, there is every reason to presume 
she will be slatternly about her work, and particularly so 
about her cooking. Therefore, if only for selfish reasons, it 
is most desirable that young housekeepers should have a 
high standard for personal cleanliness, and live in full 
accordance with it. 



LXIV. 

AEE HOUSE-PLANTS INJURIOUS TO THE HEALTH ? 

MES. BEECHEE : My wife and I are both attentive 
readers of the ' Christian Union,' and we venture 
to ask for a few words of information upon the subject of 
house -plants. We are passionately fond of flowers, but 
have frequently seen it stated that plants, especially flower- 
ing plants, vitiate the air, rendering it unfit for breathing 
purposes. Is that really true 1 We like plants in our sleep- 
ing-rooms, but of course would give them up if convinced 
that they were injurious to the health. We have heliotropes, 



ARE HOUSE-PLANTS INJURIOUS TO THE HEALTH < 267 

roses, geraniums, lilies, fuchsias, and a number of other 
plants. Do these render the atmosphere noxious to life and 
health 1 As plants liberate oxygen and absorb carbonic gas, 
we think they ought to be wholesome. Or is it the blossom 
that does the mischief? Is a sweet-smelling flower poisonous 1 
Will you please set us right upon this matter, and oblige 
"Two Young Housekeepers." 

We copy this letter entire, hoping by so doing to bring 
this subject to the attention of those whose opinion and judg- 
ment are of greater worth than our own. There are many 
conflicting opinions concerning the efl"ect which plants 
and vines, growing in the house, and filling it by day 
and by night with their delightful atmosphere, have upon 
the health of their worshipers. If the wise and scientific 
among our readers will give this matter attentive and sober 
thought, we hope to find in the multitude of counselors the 
wisdom which is so much needed. 

It is not very many years since physicians lifted up their 
voices against this pleasant adornment of our homes, by 
which some portion of the joyous summer may be wrested 
from the grasp of the frost king, and which enables us 
while indoors, to forget that fingers and toes are in danger 
the moment we venture outside of the carefully tended par- 
lor garden. 

But our physicians change their opinions like other mor- 
tals, and at the present time some affirm that jDlants and 
vines in the house, or even in the sleeping-apartments, are 
health-giving. They tell us that the carbonic gas which is 
being constantly set free from our lungs, and which is detri- 
mental, is at once absorbed by our flowers, while these at 
the same time give to us, in exchange, the oxygen which, in 
its proper place and quantity, is so necessary to health and 
life. 



268 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Other physicians assume that a growing plant is not. 
noxious or in any way detrimental, but that as soon as it be- 
gins to blossom it should be at once removed from a bedcham- 
ber, and if allowed to remain in the house at all, should be 
placed, while in bloom, as far as possible from the family 
apartments. 

Again, it is stated — and all these conflicting opinions, we 
are told, come to us from the " best and most reliable author- 
ity " — that no plant, in flower or not, is at all injurious in 
any part of the house, so long as the perfume from the 
blossom is not powerful and not at all offensive. " Who 
shall decide when doctors disagree 1 " It seems to us very im- 
portant that our learned, scientific men — those who make the 
eff'ects of the various gases on life and health a careful study 
— should give this question a thorough investigation, and 
when, after mature research, they arrive, as they suppose, at. 
- a proper conclusion, shovQd publish their opinion in simple 
terms, such as all can comprehend. We should rejoice if 
the conclusion of the whole matter might be such that all 
could lean upon it with no fear of its proving by and by a 
broken reed ; but it is difiicult to keep pace with changes in 
the results of scientific investigations. 

One year certain health-principles are established, the next 
they are set aside for some other thing. Some articles of 
food are prohibited as being very injurious, but in a few 
months the prohibition is cast aside. One mode of diet is 
declared pernicious, shortening the days, and making the few 
that are granted undesirable. Yet, just as you are ready to 
accept this theory, you are told of those who have lived well- 
nigh to a hundred years, or perhaps have passed that period, 
always healthful and cheerful, yet the proscribed diet or 
article of food has been habitually indulged in by them. 

For our own part, we find it difficult to believe that the 
plants cultivated in our homes, and which so beautify and 



ARE HOUSE-PLANTS INJURIOUS TO THE HEALTH] 269 

enliven our winters, can be injurious, provided the rooms in 
which they are placed are kept ivell ventilated. In severely 
cold weather it may not be advisable to open a window just 
over the plants, but when windows are raised to air adjacent 
rooms, where there arc no flowers, then open the doors 
leading from them to the parlor, or winter garden, that the 
cold breeze from witliout may sweep through the whole suite 
of rooms for a few moments until the air is entirely changed. 
This, even in the coldest winter, will do the plants no harm, 
nor their owners either, but, on the contrary, will be very 
beneficial, making both more healthy and vigorous. Many a 
lady in mid-winter sits by the fire or register, yawning and 
stupidly sleepy, with a dull heavy pain over the eyes fore- 
boding a severe headache, who could throw off all this 
torpidity, defy the headache, and rise up refreshed and 
vigorous, if she would simply throw open her doors or 
windows just long enough to drive out the overcharged air 
in the room, and by so doing bring in exchange a pure 
and invigorating atmosphere from the out-door world ; and 
house-plants will be equally benefited by the same pre- 
scription. 

We should not think it wise to have plants in bloom in 
the sleeping-apartment, unless the room was large, and the 
doors so arranged as to favor frequent and complete change 
of the air. 

It is always desirable, just before retiring, to raise the 
windows for a few moments, not only in the parlors, but in 
the sleeping-apartments, particularly if they have been used 
through the day as sewing-rooms. It will insure a more 
refreshing sleep, and also a brighter awakening in the morn- 
ing. House-plants should be placed on a stand having 
castors, so that they can be easily rolled away from the 
windows when opened, until the room is fully aired ; or, 
if freezing cold, an old cloth kept for the purpose, or old 



270 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ne\vspapers, should be thrown over the plants to protect 
them from being chilled. 

Cut fioivers, we think, should not be left in a bedroom 
overnight. Just before retiring, set them into a cool, dark 
closet. They will keep fresh much longer by using this 
precaution, and the occupants of the chamber escape any 
possible injury from them. The water in which cut Howers 
are put ought to be changed every night and morning, or it 
will become slimy and offensive, as well as injiuious. 

The love of flowers is very desirable in children, and should 
be cultivated from their earliest years. For that reason, if for 
no other, we should be exceedingly sorry to have any physi- 
cian whose judgment we respected forbid the cultivation of 
house-plants, particularly in the nursery. In that room every 
bright and pretty thing should be gathered, and certainly 
nothing more quickly attracts the attention of children than 
a choice collection of flowers. To find these all about the 
house, but especially in the nursery, — their own peculiar 
domain, — secures a taste for them far more surely than to 
see them kept exclusively in the green-house, or in rooms set 
apart for their culture and nothing more. Yet no mother 
will risk her children's health in the least degree, and if her 
physician assures her flowers in any part of the house are 
harmful, she will eject them at once. We do not at aU 
believe they are injurious to the health, and know that 
they greatly increase the happiness of those who culti- 
vate them. But we are open to conviction, and if any 
one of reliable judgment can bring sound reasons against 
keeping these house-gardens, we should be glad to know of 
them. 



BAD BUTTER. 271 

LXV. 

BAD BUTTER. 

OF all the needless discomforts common to boarding- 
houses and hotels, "we know of none so truly inexcus- 
able, nor which subtracts more from one's enjoyment, than 
the use of bad butter for cooking purposes. When placed 
on the table in the butter-dish, if found to be imperfect or 
quite unpalatable the butter can easily be rejected. To eat 
good bread without butter, or, if the bread is unsatisfactory, 
a fine mealy potato with a little salt, is by no means the 
greatest hardship that you may be subjected to. But imagine 
yourself seated at tlie table, and a large dish of fresh peas, 
green and tender, brought in. You have been hoping, almost 
impatiently, to see them each day, and now what a feast is 
yours, in anticipation. You can hardly wait till the soup is 
removed. Visions of the splendid peas, of swe^ and delicious 
flavor, which you used to eat at your father's table, are float- 
ing before you ; and tender remembrances of the dear hand 
that then so deftly ministered to your childish appetite are 
rising, until you are fast verging toward sentimentality, when 
your turn comes to be helped. These peas are the first real 
country peas, picked right from the vines, you have tasted 
since your home was established in the city, and you eagerly 
bid farewell to sentiment, and address yourself to the full 
enjoyment of visible, tangible things. How you would like 
to take a real big mouthful in a child-like manner ! But 
you control your eagerness, and, lady-like, demurely carry 
the spoon to the mouth. horrors ! Have you fortitude 
and self-possession sufficient to enable you to swallow that 
detestable morsel 1 Politeness and unwillingness to exhibit 
your disgust to others at the table control you. With a 



272 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

shuddering giili) you swallow, but hold your breath till you 
snatch a piece of bread or a mouthful of water to send after, 
with some faint hojje of removing the vile taste. What is it 
that so disturbs you 'I Rancid butter ! Is there anything, 
any taste more revolting and abominable % That delicious 
dish of j)eas spoiled, irretrievably, by a spoonful of the nause- 
ous abomination, manufactured by careless dairy-women, 
and bought by easily gulled grocers, or by those persons pos- 
sessed of india-rubber consciences, capable of stretching to 
any imaginable length, who will sell this abomination for 
good butter. Or it may be some sharp, managing landlady 
has bought it, knowing its bad character, for economical rea- 
sons. Her boarders will not eat very heartily of any dish 
that is flavored with such butter, and yet they Avill be com- 
pelled to eat something, even if distasteful. We know such 
ideas of economy — not honesty — are common ; but board- 
ers are very foolish who submit to this imposition. If they 
choose, they can easily teach such unscrupulous managers 
that being " penny wise and pound foolish," in the long run, 
will not secure prosperity. 

But you will try to judge charitably. Perhaps this was a 
mistake ; and it may be that only the peas have suffered. 
You will try to look cheerful and satisfied, and turn to the 
nice piece of broiled chicken on your plate. Alas, alas ! 
Juicy and tender, broiled just right to a perfect brown, but 
all destroyed by this miserably rancid butter 1 " The offence 
is rank. It smeUs to heaven ! " What can you do ? Where 
turn 1 Beets, beans, succotash, — that dish to Avhich, wdth 
green peas, you swore allegiance in early childhood, and have 
faithfully kept the vow, — all destroyed by this most vil- 
lainous compound. You nibble at a bit of bread or piece 
of potato, and try to wait patiently till the dessert is brought 
in, for you see no alternative but to make that your princi- 
pal meal. You wonder if others are as uncomfortable, but, 



BAD BUTTER. 273 

conscious of the intense disgust your ftice may exhibit, fear 
to look boldly around. 

"Well, there is a balm for almost every woe, and here comes 
the dessert ; it may bring healing for your wounded feelings. 
"What a delicious-looking apple-dumpling ! This atones ! 
Will you take wine sauce or hard sauce 1 You don't like 
wine sauce ; but the butter in the hard savice, — dare you 
venture 1 Why, surely no one "will risk such butter as the 
vegetables Avere seasoned with in a delicate sauce ! But one 
taste is sufficient to show you that you have not yet fath- 
omed the depths of economical audacity. You put back 
your plate and try a bit of pie. Even into the pastry the 
enemy has found entrance. 

But you say, " What is one to do ] The rooms are en- 
gaged for a month, and I must stay the limited time or 
forfeit the price of the rooms, and that I cannot afford to 
do ; yet I shall surely starve. I hardly feel that I can eat 
a meal without butter. The table butter is not so intoler- 
able as that used in cooking, but even that is all I can en- 
dure. What can I do T' Will it not be better economy to 
leave at once, and lose the rent of your rooms, rather than 
stay and starve a month, or attempt to " fill the aching 
void " by that which may derange your stomach, and induce 
fever, dyspepsia, or other sickness, which will cost, in doc- 
tors' bills, ten times the price of your rooms to eradicate 1 

This great evil will never be remedied while those who 
board, either regularly or only for a few Aveeks in the summer, 
continue to " put up " with this discomfort as one of the ills 
of life which mtcst be borne. Let it be once fully understood 
that all boarders — aU who frequent fashionable resorts — 
are fixed in their determination to endure this cruel imposi- 
tion no longer, and that as soon as they find poor butter is 
a part of the regular diet, and good butter only an occasional 
luxury, they will at once leave, and we think the hotels and 

12* B 



274 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

boarding-liouses will soon find means to procure a good 
article. Let this class of purchasers alone refuse to buy any 
but the best, and the large number of poor butter makers will 
soon be taught the necessity of gi'eater carefulness in their 
dairies. 

Bad butter is entirely a needless discomfort. The fault 
begins, of course, with the manufacturers. They have no 
excuse, as a general thing. Once in a great while, there may 
be a reason for a few pounds of poor butter in the dairy, 
which, though it should be a source of regret, is not neces- 
sarily a disgrace. Sickness in the family may sometimes 
compel the overtaxed housekeeper to neglect the dairy, or 
leave it for a short time in incompetent hands, who, either 
indolently or ignorantly, fail to give the milk-pans a thor- 
ough scalding, or leave the cream too long on the milk and 
too long unchurned, who do not understand salting or work- 
ing over the butter ; but in such cases no one with any self- 
respect will allow the butter to leave their own house. If at 
all usable, they will sooner submit to the disagreeable neces- 
sity of using it for their own food, or put it at once into the 
only place where poor butter has any right to be, — the soap- 
grease pot ; anything rather than do themselves the dis- 
credit, and their customers the injustice, of sending it into 
the market. That is a species of meanness that should be 
considered unpardonable ; and just as soon as the grocer 
learns that his customers will not, under any consideration, 
buy poor butter of him, and the dairy-men understand that 
-the grocer will not look at any but the very best, this mis- 
chief will be rooted out, " the plague be stayed " ; poor but- 
ter makers will find their occupation gone, and leave the field ' 
to more conscientious and more competent manufacturers, or 
at once, from self-interest, if not from self-respect, resolutely 
set about securing instruction, and learn the only way to 
make good butter. This is easily done ; care, neatness, and 



BAD BUTTER. 275 

good judgment are all that is requisite after the mode of 
operation is understood, and the preliminary steps are simple 
and easily taken. It is a marvel that this nuisance has been 
so long tolerated. It is just as easy to make good butter as 
poor. It is simply want of neatness or deficiency of judg- 
ment that fills our markets with a miserable preparation that 
is only fit for soap-grease or the pigs. 

First, take care that your cows are not allowed food that 
wUl afiect the taste of the milk, — such as turnips, cabbage, 
or onions ; then the cows' bags and the milkers' hands 
must be washed perfectly clean before beginning to milk ; 
any dirt or bad flavor from the cow's bag or the hands, 
that may find its way into the milk-pail, will taint the 
milk and injure the flavor of the butter ; for it should be 
borne in mind constantly, that there is nothing that receives 
any foreign taste so readily as butter. 

Next, all the utensils — pails, strainers, pans, skimmers, 
churn, butter-bowl, and ladles — must be kept as sweet and 
clean as scalding water and a hot sun can make them. The 
cream, even in the coldest weather, must not be allowed to 
remain on the milk over thirty-six hours, and in warm 
weather even less. In hot days remove the cream as soon as 
the mill?; begins to sour : none will rise after the milk 
changes. Although it will, of course, become thicker by 
souring, it does not follow that it will be any better ; on the 
contrary, every moment the cream is left on sour milk takes 
from the sweetness, quality, and purity of the butter. In 
churning, the motion should be even, not too rapid, and, 
when gathered, the butter mu.st be well worked over and 
salted, and set on the ice, or in a place so cool that it will 
soon harden and keep so ; but be sure that no meat, fish, 
fruit, or vegetables are put in the milk-room or cellar, — 
nothing from which the milk or butter will contract any 
taste. It will require a second salting the next morning, to 



276 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

renioA^e Avliat buttermilk may be left from the first working. 
One of the great merits of the Blanchard churn is the facil- 
ity with which the buttermilk can be freed from the butter, 
as the less manipulation the better for the butter, provided 
you secure entire freedom from buttermilk 

Many put in a little saltpetre, to make the butter hard 
and firm, — a bad practice, we think, not only because it 
gives a slightly unpleasant taste to the butter, but also 
because it may prove injurious to the consumer. A butter 
pail or pot, perfectly sweet, should be well rubbed Avith salt, 
and the butter be packed in it, and well pounded down so as 
to leave no air-holes ; then cover the butter an inch deep 
with brine strong enough to bear up an egg, and put to the 
hrine two table-spoonfuls of pulverized saltpetre. This will 
help to keep the butter sweet and hard ; and, used in the 
brine, Avill neither impart any acrid taste to the butter nor 
be in the least degree unhealthful. 

These rules strictly followed by our dairy-women, we are 
confident that there will be no complaints of had butter, 
but the comfort and happiness of the consumers be greatly 
increased, and the labor of the butter-makers in nowise aug- 
mented thereby. 

"We lately saw a receipt for keeping dairy utensils pure 
and sweet, which we mean to try, as we think it cannot but 
be advantageous. Keep close by the table on wMch the 
milk things are washed " a small tub or a hogshead, accord- 
ing to the size of your dairy. In this, slack some good 
quicklime, enough to make a thin whitewash ; fill with 
water, cover closely to keep out dirt and dust. The lime 
will settle, leaving a saturated solution of lime-water over it, 
as clear as spring water. Wash the utensils as usual ; then 
dip each article into the cask of lime-water, giving them a 
quick turn, so that every part shall be immersed in the lime- 
Avater, then set them up to drain and dry, and the purifica- 



OCTOBER. 277 

tion is complete." We presume in the case of a churn, 
cheese-tub, cheese-press, or other large article, that pouring 
the lime-water over it will answer the purpose just as well, 
though using the lime-water up sooner than by dipping into 
the cask. 

The lime in the clear water instantly neutralizes the 
acidity of the milk which may yet remain in the cracks or 
seams of the milk-vessels. The lime keeps the water pure 
all summer, and the waste and evaporation may be made up 
by adding clear water when needed, as the lime settled at 
the bottom will keep up the strength of the saturated solu- 
tion. 



LXVI. 

OCTOBER. 



THE brilliant hues in the mountains, the falHng leaves 
in the lanes (over Avhich the horses' feet make such 
sweet yet melancholy music), remind us that October, the 
brightest, dearest month in the whole year, has come ; but 
while we rejoice in anticipation of the glorious hours it 
promises, we must not forget that during these mild, invigo- 
rating days our houses must be set in order properly to meet 
the sharp November weather, which is close at hand, and 
the fiercer blasts of winter which will follow. 

N^ow the frosty nights and cool days will soon relieve us 
from the plague of flies, Avhich have by their unconquerable 
impertinence so perplexed and disheartened all good house- 
keepers through the summer ; at least we may promise this 
relief, if they are hunted every night and morning from the 
dark corners where they delight to hide at the first ap- 



278 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

proach of frost. Attack them every evening with brash and 
iDroom, driving them ovit doors into the cold night-air, clos- 
ing doors and Avindows after them, and a few frosty nights 
will rid you of this evil for the winter. After each battle 
sweep up all the dead and disabled and burn them, that 
from out of the pile which you will have gathered no stunned 
or crippled fly may be ready to rise up against you with the 
morning sun. As the cold increases they become stupid and 
less active, and huddle together in masses on the ceiling or 
windows, where they cling, too stiff and torpid to shun your 
approach, thus affording a good opportunity to brush down and 
destroy them in large quantities. If up each morning before 
the sun, as every good housekeeper should be, you will have 
another favorable time to remove them ; but if both night ' 
and morning these opportunities for banishing your enemies 
have been neglected, you will find as soon as the fires are 
kindled, or the bright warm October sun shines through 
your windows, they will come out from their hiding-places 
and be just as busy through the day, and far more annoy- 
ing, than in July and August. If you have been vigilant, 
the frost and snow, combined with your unwearied skir- 
mishes, will soon set you free, and the flies be remembered 
only as trials of the past ; and through the winter, at least, 
you may hope to rest from your laboi-s in this particular 

direction. 

But never imagine that you can sit down in idleness ; 
as the flies are routed, or on the retreat, you will find 
yourself beset with ivasjjs. During the chHly September 
clays they begin to seek for winter quarters. They are well 
content for the most part to weave their summer nests away 
from the house, in trees and shrubbery ; but as cold weather 
approaches they are prone to select some snug retreat under 
the rafters of the barn or the eaves of the house or attics. 
They like to curl up in large masses inside the window- 



OCTOBER. 279 

blinds on the east or south side of the house, where they 
remain too torpid to stir at your approach, until the sun pours 
in its warm flood of light, to wake them to life and activity. 
Wherever they are thus found massed together, if at all 
within reach, be sure and spare no effort to destroy them 
early in the morning, while in this torpid condition. It is 
very easy then to kill them : take a pitcher of boiling-hot 
water, raise the window carefully and pour it over them ; or 
if nested close on the window-glass, pour it down between the 
upper and lower sash and it wUl destroy large quantities of 
them instantly. The few stragglers that were only slightly 
touched with the hot water will not be vigorously active, and 
you can easily brush them into a pail or dust-pan and burn 
them. Unless you take some such method of remo\T.ng the 
wasps, it is not safe to raise your windows to air your rooms 
and let in morning air and sun, as they will be sure to 
seek shelter in the chamber instead of remaining inside the 
window-blind, because as the sun warms their lodgings they 
become quite lively ; and, once in the room, should they 
crawl in under the pillows and sheets, a favorite shelter 
for them, the warmth of your body at night would most 
probably rouse them, and they might disturb your slumber 
in a manner hj no means agreeable. 

It is unfortunate that wasps often attack without provoca- 
tion ; and such applicants for winter shelter should be de- 
stroyed as effectually as possible, especially when there are 
children about. Their stings are bad enough for an adidt to 
bear, but it is piteous to see a child suffer from them ; be- 
cause to the pain is added a terror not easily controlled. ]N"ot- 
withstanding the utmost vigilance, some may so skillfully se- 
crete themselves that your first knowledge of their presence wQl 
be a sting. Every one should keep a speedy antidote in the 
house, and nothing gives so thorough and instantaneous re- 
lief as cut tobacco, — the only thing that we know of that it is 



280 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

good for. We never fail to have a paper close at hand, where 
every one in the house knows where to find it. Wet a small 
qimntity of it and lay at once on the spot stung, holding it 
on tightly for three or four minutes, and the pain and swell- 
ing wiU be at once removed. 

These annoyances disposed of, you can noAv commence a 
thorough house-cleaning, and at once begin to remove all 
the marks by which the flies have disfigured your house 
and furniture, and disturbed your peace through the warm 
weather. 

No good housekeeper will allow the glorious October days 
to beguile her into forgetfulness so far as to neglect house- 
cleaning until the raw and chilly JSTovember weather is upon 
her, and winter is close at hand. October is by far the best 
month for fall house-cleaning, not only because the flies are 
disposed of, or so far under your control that they can be kept 
out of the house, but also because the Aveather is usually not so 
warm that such work is exhausting and severe, nor so cold 
that the necessary exposure chills ; the cleaning can be accom- 
plished with more comfort and less fatigue than in any other 
month of the year. 

During the summer all the small fruits have been plenti- 
fully supplied, and later, peaches, pears, and grapes have 
furnished much enjoyment and many luxuries ; but all these 
good things levy a tax upon us in some shape or another, 
generally defacing furniture or lea"\dng ugly stains on our 
clothes or table-linen. The clear, frosty nights that we may 
soon look for will aid materially in eradicating the stains ; 
but the injury done to furniture, especially articles with mar- 
ble tops, requires a different treatment. 

Fruit stains may be removed from linen, without in any 
way injuring the fabric, by rubbing yellow soap on both sides 
of the stained spots ; then wet some starch in cold water or in 
lemon-juice to a tlaick paste, and spread over the soap ; rub this 



OCTOBER. 28:1 

starcli-paste into the cloth thoroughly, and expose the linen 
to sun and air till the stains disappear. If they do not entirely 
go in three or four days, repeat the application. This is 
for stains that have been in some days ; if taken when fresh 
stained there is little trouble in removing them. Hold the 
stained place over a bowl and pour on hoiiing water ; let it 
filter through slowly, pouring on the water gradually till the 
stain disappears ; then lay the article in the hot sun for an 
hour or two, when it may be washed and ironed. The water 
used must be really boiling, and the stain fresh made, not 
dried in for days, for this remedy to be efficient. As by this 
mode one avoids all danger of injuring the texture of the cloth, 
it is worth while to take a little trouble at once and save the 
linen instead of waiting until quite dry. Bleaching liquids, 
chlorate of lime, Javelle water, and maiiy other preparations, 
are good if carefully used. 

"When marble is stained with fruit, oxalic acid diluted 
with water, or oil of vitriol and water, rubbed on the stain 
and left a few minutes, will remove the spot ; but they must 
be used with care, for if left on too long they will destroy the 
polish of the marble. Eub off very dry, and polish with 
chamois-skin. 

There are a multitude of receipts for removing stains both 
from linen and marble, but very many, although they re- 
move the stains, are liable to remove the cloth also, or in 
marble destroy the polish ; others are useful, and in time 
our readers shall have them. 



282 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

LXVII. 

THE SLAVEEY OF FASHION. 

''"TXT^OEN" OUT/' " Overtaxed," " Used xip'' ''Too tired 
VV for anythiiuj," are expressions daily heard from 
mothers and housekeepers ; and the languid step, pale, care- 
worn face, and heavy eyes bear witness that these are not 
foolish, unmeaning words, but all too near the truth for safety. 
Most are ready to recognize the fact that half the feebleness 
and ill health among women arises from over-exertion while 
attempting to carry burdens too weighty for the constitution. 
Yet how much of this is needless, in no wise increasing the 
comfort or happiness of the family circle, but, in every 
department of household labor, the result of blind, unreason- 
ing adherence to the dictates of fashion. Look backward 
but one half-century. Are those of us who require three or 
four servants to keep the household machinery in working or- 
der any happier than our mothers were 1 We turn from our 
fashionable cooking and elaborately served tables with long- 
ing for the simpler yet most excellent cooking of the olden 
time, when one servant was sufficient, and often none at all 
was required ; the mother, with her little daughters round 
her, preferring to do all the work without a servant, that she 
might herself teach her young girls the lessons of domestic 
economy as none but a mother can teach them. 

Was all that labor more wearing to health and strength 
than the cruel bondage in which we live, while laboring to 
secure, from servants, the care and efficient work absolutely 
necessary to the present style of living 1 With how much 
more appetite we partook of the plainly cooked and more 
healthful food in those days, undisturbed by the bustle and 



THE slavt:ry of fashion. 283 

confusion of many courses, or the constant attendance of a 
waiter, whose eyes and ears are usually more observing of the 
little pleasantries and freedom of the family circle than of 
the service which a fashionable style demands, and whose 
tongue is ready to retail all that is said or done at our table, 
and " with additions strange." The meal finished, the labor 
of clearing away and washing the many dishes now required 
is fourfold what was demanded in the times of more simple 
and pleasure-giving customs, to say nothing of the reckless 
heedlessness and destruction fostered by the haste necessary 
to be ready for the next formal meal. 

But the slavery of providing for the table is nothing in 
comparison with the over-exertion which fashionable dress 
exacts. Even if the labor of the olden time was burden- 
some, and time and strength too heavily taxed, yet the 
exercise of the whole body, and frequent opportunities of 
breathing fresh out-door air, which housework compels, were 
far more likely to secure firm health than can be hoped for 
if one sits for hours bending over ruffling and trimmings, 
thereby restricting the proper action of the lungs, and strain- 
ing the eyes until they become weak and prematurely old. 
In many cases this must all be done Avithout help, for few, 
comparatively, can afford to hire a seamstress, and yet be 
able to spend money as lavishly on such elaborate dress as 
the present monstrous style demands. But we are not sure 
that even that herculean task is as injurious to health and 
happiness as the severe strain on strength, nerves, and temper, 
which those ladies whose purses are always full experience 
in traversing the city, roaming from store to store, in their 
anxiety to secure the first and newest style, and at the 
same time torturing themselves lest, after all this labor, they 
should misjudge or be beguiled into wrong selections. With 
this fear ever present, they repeat those tiresome journeys 
day after day, making themselves disagreeable and uncom- 



284 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPEES. 

fortable, and exhausting the wonderful long-suffering and 
patience of the shopkeepers before they can decide which of 
all the many patterns they will purchase. 

But the material being at last selected, can they now rest 
from their labors 'I Ah, no ! their trials are but just begun. 
The ruling power in the fashionable world — the dress- 
maker — condescends to acknowledge that the articles se- 
lected are all satisfactory, though twenty or even thirty 
yards are hardly enough for a full dress (our mothers looked 
very fine and far more inviting and graceful with but ten 
yards in their dresses). But now comes the great struggle. 

How shall the dress be made 1 Mrs. has twelve small 

frills or flounces around her skirt, and a train two feet long-; 
then there must be a bustle " ever so bi^^," over which falls a 
pannier, with puffs, bows, buttons innumerable, bands, folds, 
and — mercy ! we are getting beyond our depth, for we can- 
not possibly understand all the terms given to the piles upon 
piles of strange " fixings " which go to make up the whole of 
that most abominable deformity called a fashionable dress. 
But the poor harassed devotee has them all at her tongue's end, 

for her heart is full of them. If Mrs. has a dozen ruffles 

or puffs, she will not be outdone, but will have eighteen or 
twenty, and a bustle twice as big, which shall extend her 
overskirt and all its puffs and bands twice as far ; and ever so 
many more dozen buttons all over, — above, below, before, 
behind, between tJae frills or bows, — anyivhere, so that Mrs. 

's trimmings are surpassed. " But, truly, now, dear 

madam, is this the very latest style '? Is n't there something 
just a little newer ? " And then another discussion begins, 
anxious, nervous, and trembling, lest some one should be 
a little ahead of her in style. The poor slave spends many 
precious hours before she dares to decide on the pattern. But 
at last that question is settled ; and now another trouble 
assails her. The arrogant dress-maker well understands the 



THE SLAVERY OF FASHION. 285 

power these devotees of fashion have vested in her hands, 
and her victims, prond, sensitive, and overbearing perhaps 
to all others, must bow to her will and caprices. She will 
take her own time to finish the work. 

" r>ut, madam ! I mast have it for this party, before 
any one else has this new style." 

She pleads in vain. Xo coaxing will avail. She must 
await the despot's will, and spend hours or days excited 
and unhappy, fearing that the dress will not be finished in 
season for the party. And when at last it comes, look at it ! 
"VA'c could laugh, were we not ashamed to think that women 
can be so absurd. What can be more uncouth, ungraceful, 
or deforming than a lady dressed in the extreme of fashion, 
or indeed with but half the absurdities that are daily seen. 
A camel, with its hump and peculiar gait, is graceful com- 
pared with the figures witli frowzy hair, dresses puffed and 
looped up over a "bustle, that we see stooping and tottering 
on high-heeled boots, or with the additional incumbrance of 
a long trail, sweeping through our parlors, and, at the slight- 
est beck of fashion, drabbling through the mud. 

Will our women never learn that they are giving health 
and strength, almost life, " for that which satisfieth not " 1 
Once in a while, when the bondage has pressed too heavily, 
and they sink exhausted on a sick-bed, some few wake to a 
dreamy kind of consciousness of their folly ; or a mother, 
who has endeavored to make her little girl as " fine as the 
finest," is prostrated by giving her strength for this ab- 
surd Avaste of time and comfort, and begins to see that 
there is a better way she can manifest her love for her 
child. 

A year or two ago we received a letter, from which we 
will copy a few sentences : — 

" I have been trying to get away to the country with my 
family of two little girls and the baby ; and, that they 



286 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

might appear in as fine feathers as any other birds, have 
overworked and gone to bed sick, instead of being seated in 
a nice parlor-car, inhahng the pure country air, as we whirl 

along, away from the city When I was a girl, we 

wore our own hair ; and a white muslin dress, with a fresh 
ribbon for a sash, Avas all that was needed for the largest 
party. And how we did enjoy ourselves, and life ! The 
elderly people talked, or played whist, while the young ones 
danced right merrily the old, square cotillion, Virginia reel, 
etc. ; and mirth and pleasure was the finale of many a day 
whose early hours had been given to domestic duties, which 
then were shared by all at home. One day with a dress- 
maker, and no machine, made a dress entire, without fatigue. 
The " artiste " was often a lady like ourselves, and sat at the 
same board, and did her work conscientiously, while the 
day she passed with us was no dreaded ordeal, but rather a 
pleasure to look forward to 

" Well, to-day, lying on my bed, overtaxed and over- 
worked, I have been thinking of these things, and then of 
other mothers, who, like myself, spend all their strength in 
toil, and he awake all night, ' too tired to sleep ' ; and so 
employ the wakeful hours in planning work for another day, 
using up as fast as possible the precious gift of life, which 
the good Father above gave to us." 

Now, why can Ave not be content to live happily and 
easily ? I speak not of the sorrows that from time to time 
come upon us, when the heart bleeds, and the wounds quiver 
long; for the deep scars which tell where the strain was 
hardest, tell also of the healing which He who scourges 
never fails to bring. God did it. 

But the toil of sorrow and care we make for ourselves 
have no promise of His relieving. The slavery of fashion, 
which so often leads to sin, cannot be carried to his throne, 
and left there for a blessing. Will not some one tell us 



PICKLING AND PRESERVING. 287 

some practical way to begin a reform, to release us from a 
bondage which is becoming intolerable ? 

It may be to have one ruffle less ; to tuck more sparsely 
the flounce of even the innermost petticoat, or to sew one 
yard less edging on a baby's shirt. But whatever and 
wherever the lesson, I pray you begin it at its A B C ; and 
as it advances, I have faith to believe that headaches will 
be lessened, " prostrations " less nervous, appetites and sleep 
more regular, and women lift their heads like the flowers 
after the rain, glad and grateful. 

We had something to say of the injury done to our little 
children by this early training in devotion to fashion ; but 
we must leave that for another time. 



LXVIII. 

PICKLING AND PRESERVING. 

IN the preliminary steps to almost all new enterprises 
there are " lions in the way," from which it is very natu- 
ral, at first, to shrink back with at least a partial discourage- 
ment ; and, as a general thing, the two most formidable 
" lions " which cross the young housekeeper's path are pic/ding 
and preservmg ; that is, if she has not, before marriage, 
taken part in this work, under her mother's supervision. 
We hear more complaints and repining in this direction than 
in any other. Time, strength, and money, it is affirmed, are 
spent in earnest endeavors to succeed ; but the time and 
strength are given in vain, and the money is wasted ; so their 
failures compel them to believe. The pickles become slimy 
and moldy ; the jelly won't harden ; the sweetmeats fer- 
ment ; ^e canned fruit turns sour. In short, " the troubles 



288 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

and ' trials," writes one, " incident to this portion of house- 
keeping are enough, to make young girls forswear matrimony, 
and go into a convent ; only they never will believe in these 
trials until they are hound ; and then, instead of a convent, a 
hoarding- house would seem the only alternative, if they would 
escape manifold vexations ; for if a young housekeeper do not 
succeed in all her duties, but particularly with her pickles 
and preserves, ' Mrs. Grundy ' is sure to go prying about, and 
expose every failure, and these failures are attributed to shift- 
lessness, instead of misfortune." 

We have great sympathy for any one in her first attempt 
to manage this portion of fall labor, unless able to secure the 
support of some judicious friend familiar with all the minu- 
tiae necessary to accomplish it creditably. Courage, self-reli- 
ance, and a resolute will are of very great advantage, and can 
itsually carry one successfully through most difficulties ; but 
experience is, after all, a wonderful assistant in securing suc- 
cess, — in " making crooked places straight, and the rough 
places smooth " and easy. Our household journals and pa- 
pers are full of instructions and receipts for preparing every 
kind of pickles and preserves ; but with all these valuable 
aids, it will require several experiments, in most cases, before 
a beginner can feel that the difficulty is mastered, and this 
work stripped of all mystery ; once successfully done, how- 
ever, it becomes as simple as making bread, pastry, or cake. 

Still, we cannot but think that too much time and 
strength are expended in private families on some parts of 
this labor. Since this kind of work is done on a large scale, 
and these luxuries so cheaply procured in the many excel- 
lent establishments arranged expressly for the business, and 
wliich have reduced the various operations to the simplest and 
easiest forms, we feel confident that housekeepers might re- 
lieve themselves of this part of their cares, and be none the 
poorer for it ; certainly this is true as far as canned fAits and 



PICKLING AND PRESERVING. 289 

preserves are concerned. It is but reasonable to suppose that 
in these large manufactories, with every appliance and con- 
venience to secure the most perfect and expeditious work, in 
many articles they can equal, if not surpass, the most expert 
cook or housekeeper. 

The regular, old-fashioned preserve, with " a pound of 
sugar to a pound of fruit," is much less used since the system 
of canning fruit, and thus retaining the natural flavor, has 
been introduced. This is certainly more healthful, and to 
most tastes more palatable, than the rich preserves. The per- 
son must be fastidious indeed who could ask for any sweetmeat 
more delicious than the pears, peaches, cherries, and plums 
that now fill our markets and groceries, and there can be no 
doubt that for those who must buy the fruit, and take the 
labor and risk of canning it, it is far more economical to buy 
it from the factories or grocers ready canned. Even when one 
has the privilege of raising one's own fruit, if it can be sold 
with reasonable profit we think it questionable if there is 
anything saved — any real economy — in canning the fruit at 
home, instead of buying it. For those who have leisure, 
and do not find it important to be very exact in economizing 
strength or money, it is all very well to do everything of 
this kind at home. To many whose time hangs heavily on 
their hands, — and, mythical as it seems, we suppose there 
are such, — preserving as much as they can of every variety 
of fruit, even to the absurdity of using watermelon-rinds 
and cucumbers, is, perhaps, a real pleasure. Though, while 
books are to be obtained, and fine flowers and beautiful 
scenery to be seen, we cannot comprehend how one can 
spend time in this work, simply for the enjoyment of it. 
But it is all well enough if it gives pleasure ; and doubtless 
articles prepared Avith one's own hands have a flavor more 
acceptable than when they are bought ready for use. But to 
all housekeepers whose minutes are precious, these labor- 
13 s 



290 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

saving manufactories are a great blessing, and the slight dif- 
ference that may be recognized in the excellence of the 
article, when compared with the home-made, is not to be 
noticed when we remember the additional time and ease, to 
say nothing of health, one secures by buying preserves and 
canned fruit from reliable establishments. 

Whether these ideas hold good with regard to pickles, 
may be somewhat doubtful. We cannot but think that the 
large amount of spices, now so much used in making pickles, 
is injurious to the health; even the simplest kind, we 
are inclined to believe, should be used with moderation ; 
and as the imported pickles, and those prepared in the man- 
ufactories in this country, are often compounded with arti- 
cles known to be injurious, it is safer to make whatever is 
required in the way of pickles, whether mixed or plain, at 
home, under your own eyes. Some of the various kinds of 
vinegar now in use, and largely employed in the factories 
for pickles, is very injurious. The process of " greening " 
pickles is carried on with most reckless disregard of health. 
A bottle of small, delicately-greened pickles is very attractive 
to those who do not know the poison hidden in them. 

Cider vinegar of the purest quality is the best. But in 
the process of making, if pickles are soaked or boiled in 
a brass kettle, they are poisoned by the verdigris, or acetate 
of copper, which is formed by the action of the vinegar on 
the brass. Acid dissolves the lead that there is in the tin- 
ning of saucepans, and corrodes copper and brass, and if it 
remains in such vessels any length of time the vinegar be- 
comes very injurious. For these reasons metal kettles 
should be discarded in making pickles. When necessary to 
boil vinegar, use a stone jar on the stove, and also use 
wooden spoons and forks. Most suppose that the delicate 
green cannot be obtained without the use of alum in the 
brine, and in this brine they must be soaked, boiled, and 



PICKLING AND PRESERVING. 291 

allowed to cool in a brass kettle half a day. They claim 
that by thus soaking, the skin is acted upon by the metal, or 
acetate of copper, and by soaking afterward in hot water 
this poison can be so far removed as to be no longer inju- 
rious. It is said that if soaked long enough in the brass to 
bring out the full green, pickles would be dangerously poi- 
soned ; and that one can tell if this has been done by the 
clear, light green color ; but if, after soaking in the alum and 
brine, in brass, half a day, and then being removed and 
soaked in hot water, the action of the heat turns them a 
dark grass green, the poison is destroyed. This may be so, 
but we prefer pickles made green without the help of brass, 
or not green at all. There are Avays by which all adultera- 
tions may be discovered. The chemist would find no diffi- 
culty in ascertaining ; but very few of those most interested 
— our housekeepers — are competent, even if they have 
time or inclination, to examine these things scientifically, 
and therefore it is well to insure against harm in domestic 
manufacture by having it fully understood that metal kettles 
of every kind should be discarded. 

The many kinds of sweet pickles that have become com- 
mon within a few years are, we imagine, less liable to de- 
range the stomach than such as are spiced. higMy, and pre- 
pared mainly with vinegar. The mixed pickles — piccalilli, 
Indian pickle, Bengal pickle or chutney, and the Chow 
Chow — are all fiery, and must require an uncommonly strong 
digestion to be eaten without injury. 

But each one must judge for himself. Pickles of all kinds 
will always be in use, no doubt, and it is well for every 
housekeeper to know how they are made. Pickles should be 
always kept covered with vinegar, and if at any time there 
are indications of their becoming moldy, boil up the vinegar 
again, adding more spice. Have the jar two thirds full of 
pickles, and one third full of vinegar. Keep the jar closely 
stopped, as exposure to the air will make them soft. 



292 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

In greening pickles (for they can be greened enough with- 
out brass) keep them closely covered while the hot vinegar is 
on them, so that none of the steam may evaporate. Boil 
them only four or five minutes, or it will take away their 
strength, and they will soon become soft. 



LXIX. 

WHAT HAS BECOME OF ALL THE LITTLE GIRLS ? 

"TT'T'E look in vain into many pleasant homes, or into 
V V the streets, cars, or steamers, for what was once a 
common sight, and was then, and ever must be, the sweetest 
object in nature, — a simple, artless little girl with all the 
pretty, unaffected ways and manners of iinsophisticated child- 
hood, fresh and beautiful, about her. There is no lack of 
small beings, dressed in such a marvelous style that Darwin 
himself would be puzzled to make out the class to which they 
belong ; but we find nothing to remind us of the little girls 
we used to know, either in dress or manners. 

In former times a pretty muslin bonnet or a simple close- 
fitting cottage straw was thought the most appropriate cover- 
ing for a little head, protecting the bright eyes from too 
intense light, and shielding the rosy cheeks from the sun's too 
fervid kisses ; but now, leaving eyes and cheeks entirely un- 
protected, we see something placed on the sunny curls, which 
is elaborately trimmed with bows, feathers, a flower-garden, or 
perhaps a mingling of both ; for, although it is too small for 
even a good-sized doll, the milliner, with an ingenuity which 
would have been praiseworthy if exercised in a more sensible 
manner, has contrived to pile up trimming enough to hide 
even the faintest suspicion of a bonnet. But, what is sadder 



WHAT HAS BECOME OF ALL THE LITTLE GIRLS 1 293 

than the lack of true taste and good common-sense in this 
styHsh affair, we see no semblance of childlike simplicity in 
the wearer. And the bonnet is but the beginning of this 
unfortunate change winch we mourn ; the pretty hahy ivaist, 
the plain white dress, the neat muslin or merino, so appro- 
priate, which little girls used to wear, are supplanted by in- 
comprehensible garments, the fac-shnile of the grand dame's 
attire ; flounces, fringes, bows, and double skirts looped and 
festooned in an astounding manner ; the child's — no, we 
mean the young lady's — height (there are no children in these 
days) is less than her circumference. This dress is put on 
over a hoop, and the " mite " who is made to carry such an 
incongruous burden totters about on high-heeled boots. This 
tiny specimen of womanhood, hardly weaned from her 
mother's breast, or, more probably, a wet-nurse's, shakes out 
her redundant robes, bending and twisting her small body in 
grotesque imitation of the women spoken of by the Prophet 
Isaiah, " with haughty mien, walking and mincing as they 
go." See how the little ape looks over her shoulders as she 
tottles about, to be sure that her hoops give her dress and 
figure the correct wiggle her sharp eyes have observed in the 
stylish mother and her fashionable friends. It is lamentable 
that all the simplicity and beauty of babyhood and child- 
hood should be destroyed by fashion. 

Added to the absurdity of the dress, these little women 
attempt to discourse on the " latest style " \ ■with their com- 
panions or dolls you will hear them imitating the discussions 
on this subject that they daily hear in the parlor or nursery 
from their mother ; or, still imitating, with a contemptuous 
toss of their little heads, they will inform their listeners that 
they "couldn't think of 'sociating with those girls, because 
they are not stylish ! " 

A few days since, as we passed out of a store on Broadway, 
our attention was arrested by the conversation of two little 



294 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

figures seated in a fine carriage, waitiiag, doubtless, fur mam- 
ma to finish, her shopping. They were dressed in a style 
positively overwhelming : their hats were wonders of skill ; 
their gloves had the orthodox number of buttons, with 
bracelets over them ; a dainty handkerchief, suspended from 
a ring attached by a chain to another ring on the little doU-like 
fingers, — the dress was simply indescribable. The elder 
was speaking to the younger, who, scarcely more than a baby, 
sat demurely by her side : " 0, mercy, just look at that 
horrid little girl who is crossing the street ! she has no hoops 
on, and not a single flounce ; no trimming at all on her dress ! 
and, oh, see her gloves ; she has only one button ! Pshaw, 
she 's nobody, — not a bit of style ! " 

The younger lisped a reply, which we lost as we passed 
on ; but it was painful to think of the training they must 
have received which enabled them at that early age to judge 
a child of their own years so quickly by the rules of fashion- 
able dress, and because her attire was not in exact accordance 
with that week's style, turn from her with contempt as 
something too low for their notice. 

Then, again, how soon a child, taught by daily precept and 
example, learns to watch her little companions with envious 
or exultant feeling, as the case may be ! How quickly she 
begins to grow hoUow-hearted and deceitful ; receiving, as 
she sees her elders do, a companion with open arms or a 
welcoming smile ; expressing the greatest affection, but the 
moment she leaves begin to criticise or make unkind re- 
marks. 

" I don't like JSTellie one bit, mamma ; she 's such a proud, 
stuck-up thing ! I suppose she thought I should feel bad 
'cause her dress had more trimming, and was a little newer 
style than mine. I did n't let her know that I noticed it. 
But I do think it real mean, mamma, that she should have 
nicer things than mine. Papa is twice as rich as her father. 



WHAT HAS BECOME OF ALL THE LITTLE GIRLS? 295 

It made me mad to see her show off her dress ; and she kept 
looking at mine and sister's in such a Avay." 

" I hope, my dear, you were poKte to NelHe." 

" yes ! but, mamma, I was awful glad when she left ; 
though I was just as smiling and pleasant as could be to 
her face." 

" That 's a good girl. You must always be very polite and 
cordial to your companions, you know. But I must say I 
think Nellie was quite vain ; and you must never show that 
you are proud of your clothes. I shall go out to-morrow and 
get you that pretty dress you teased so for, I think ! " 

" mamma, I am so glad ! And as soon as it is made 
I '11 go right over and call on Nellie. "Won't she feel bad 
when she sees my new dress ! It will be ever so much 
prettier than hers." 

And the mother smiled complacently, with never a 
thought of the wicked feelings she was cultivating in her 
child. mothers ! how can you be so blind ! Both by 
precept and example you are teaching your children to make 
urcss their idol, and to know very little of anything but that 
which pertains to fashion ; to be envious or contemptuous of 
their little friends and companions, according as they are 
dressed better or worse than themselves. Can you ever reflect 
that God did not commit such treasures to your keeping 
without meaning some day to call upon you to render up the 
account of your stewardship 1 What can you say, when asked 
how you have trained the young souls given to your care 1 
Can you reply, " We have been instant in season and out of 
season in teaching them," — what 1 To work for the good of 
others ; to learn to do right ; in all simplicity to love and obey 
the Saviour, who, taking a little child in his arms, said, " Of 
such is the kingdom of heaven." Of such ? Ah, no ! Not 
of such children as those ; you are training to avoid, not evil 
communications, but unfashionable companions ; to look on 
the outward adorning, and not on the heart. 



296 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

But it is not alone the worldly-minded who make no pre- 
tence to any higher law than their own selfish gratification, 
who bow the knee to fashion. Christian mothers, are you 
guiltless 1 Think of the time, the health and strength given 
to dress ; the bondage which compels you to pervert all 
real taste, to do violence to your own natural instincts of 
neatness and true elegance, and accept the absurdities of 
fashion, simply because the ruling style requires it. If you 
are thus influenced and beguiled, do you flatter yourselves 
that your children will not, from their earliest years, regard 
such homage as important ] We do not think it wrong to 
dress neatly and in as good taste as possible. "We blame 
none for giving so much thought to their own dress and 
their children's as to provide those articles that are appropri- 
ate and becoming to the different styles of face, figure, and 
complexion. It is natural, and we think right, for a mother 
to dress her darlings as neatly and prettily as she can, with- 
out unnecessary waste of time and strength; but we do 
think it sin to spend money and time lavishly in following 
the dictates of fashion, and not of good taste and common- 
sense ; no one pretends to believe that there is either of 
these in the present style of dressing. It is utterly destitute 
of grace ; is ridiculous to the last degree ; but fashion com- 
pels, and women — Christian women — obey, and teach their 
little daughters like obedience ! 0, the money, time, and 
strength given to destroy, by the absurdities of fashionable 
dress, every vestige of beauty and grace which God gave 
you. in your little ones ! Take the week through, hour by 
hour, do you not give more time and thought to your own 
and your children's dress than you can spare for your Mas- 
ter's service % Do not your children gather from your daily 
walk and conversation that to be fashionably dressed is of 
more hnportance than loving and serving the Saviour, who 
died for them and you 1 Judging by your daily conversa- 



PROCRASTINATION. 297 

tion, which will they think of the greatest importance, the 
service of God, or devotion to fashion 1 To which do they see 
you giving the largest part of your time, the adorning of 
their little bodies, — " the plaiting the hair, the wearing of 
gold, and putting on of apparel," — or in teaching them that 
Avhich is not changeable, " not corn;ptible, even the orna- 
ment of a meek and quiet spirit, which is, in the sight of 
God, of great price " 1 What can you say, fashionable Chris- 
tian mother, when He calls you to give an account of your 
stewardship '? 



LXX. 

PROCRASTINATION. 

AN inclination to put off till to-morrow that which were 
more appropriately done to-day seems quite natural 
to almost every one, but it is one of the symptoms of deprav- 
ity, and the earlier it is fought and conquered the better. 
There are some sensible mothers whose constant endeavor is 
to prevent this habit from gaining a foothold in their chil- 
dren's characters. From earliest childhood they watch and 
nip it in the bud. Those who have lived an active life — ■ 
every moment claiming its own special work — are the 
mothers who can best train their children to understand the 
full value of the prompt, regular performance of each duty, 
however small. 

" Come, little one, it is time to get up." The child is 
perhaps disinclined, thinks one more little nap would be 
comfortable. But it is time to prepare for breakfast, and 
what is gained by delay is nothing but the first lesson in 
selfish indulgence and procrastination. The child does 
not need it. If it went to bed, as it sliould have done, 
13* 



298 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

when the birds folded their heads under their wings, it re- 
quires no more sleep. A few gentle words or caresses will 
soon chase all traces of slumber from those bright eyes, 
and the little one, merry as the birds, is soon ready for 
breakfast. 

"While children are very young begin this education, and 
see that it is distinctly understood that no excuse but illness 
can avail. They must be up at a given hour, and by the 
time they are twelve years old you will find it difficult to 
keep you little girls and boys in bed beyond the regular time. 
You have thus established a habit of early rising which will 
cling to them through life ; that is, if their mother gently 
and lovingly impressed upon their minds what they would 
lose by delay and gain by promptness. Eut, although a stern 
and severe compulsion may secure obedience while under 
your eye, by that course you make the act so disagreeable 
and repulsive, by associating it with your stern manner, that 
they are tempted to rush to the other extreme whenever they 
can do so with impunity. 

Children naturally love play better than work or study ; 
but it is better that they early learn that there is something 
besides play which even little girls and boys can and must 
do. They, of course with no evil intention, will be inclined 
to stretch the play hour or recess a little beyond the ap- 
pointed time. It is the parent's duty to watch and guard 
against this, not on account of the real good which a young 
child might accomplish in these few extra moments, but for 
the sake of establishing a habit which wiU be of infinite 
service for the child in after years, that the discipline, though 
for the present not joyous, may work for its future happiness 
and usefulness. Therefore, make the hours for recreation as 
frequent as seems necessary, only let it be distinctly under- 
stood til at when that time expires there must be no delay, no 
procrastination. As the child grows older and able to exercise 



PROCRASTINATION. 299 

a little judgment, it will soon become conscious of the loss in- 
curred by dilatoriness, and the gain secured by a prompt per- 
formance of duty. A judicious mother will soon teach it liow 
to contrast the two modes of action, and a few unfortunate 
experiments will fully corroborate her teachings. The perialty 
to be paid for leaving any duty which should be done now 
until " by and by," generally follows very speedily after the 
omission. 

When qitite young we were given a piece of work one 
morning which should not have occupied an hour's time. 
In the afternoon our brothers were to go to a neighboring town 
in a sleigh, and we were promised a ride with them, on con- 
dition that this work was finished in season. It was a rich 
treat, and we were greatly elated. The work we were set to 
do was so easy we made merry over the idea of a failure. But 
the sun did shine so brightly, and it was so pleasant to stand 
at the east windows and Avatch the men at the huge wood- 
pile, sawing and splitting the winter store of wood ; and it 
was such fun to see the old gander chase our little roguish 
brother away from the place where the stately old fellow kept 
watch and ward over his mate on her nest, that every few 
minutes our sewing was forgotten and we were seated on the 
old-fashioned windoAv-sill. A gentle voice often reminded 
us that we were wasting time, and must be left behind if 
that simple seam were not finished in season. 

" O mother ! I can finish it just as easy ! " 

" Yes, dear, if you work steadily, but not if you delay in 
this manner." Dear, patient mother ! How much easier 
for her to have taken our neglected work and done it herself 
than to keep such a vigilant watch over a giddy girl ; but 
for a child's good a mother bears all things. 

Time flew by, unregarded by our idle fingers. Presently 
a sleigh dashed up to the door, the bells jingling merrily. It 
cannot be time ! But a cheery voice rang out, " Come, 



300 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

sister, not a minute to spare," — and that little, little bit of 
■work not quite done ! 

" mother, mother ! only a few more stitches ! See ! 
mother, let me go ! " But, even while we uttered this 
piteous wail, we knew that mother could not break her word. 
When she took her sobbing little girl on her lap, and ex- 
plained how necessary it was that we should suffer the 
penalty of our persistent procrastination, if we would ever 
destroy this bad habit, we were conscious that her grief was 
deeper than our own, that she suffered with us. We did not 
soon forget that lesson, and it did not require many similar 
ones to effect a pretty substantial cure. 

JSTo one is more strongly tempted to put off till a more 
convenient season, here and there, some minor duty, than a 
housekeeper whose cares are many, and helpers very few. 
By afternoon she is so weary, rest would be very pleasant, 
but just as she thinks she may indulge in one half-hour's 
quiet, some little item rises up that should receive attention 
to-day. " I have half a mind to let it pass till to-morrow," 
but to-morrow has it own duties, and unexpected ones may 
arise. A few experiments in this most excusable of all 
procrastinations will teach the folly of the attempt to add 
to the already filled register of the next day's work the 
duties of the present time. 

The clothes are brought up from the wash ; on sorting 
them out and putting them in place, you find a small hole in 
this article or a rip in that. You are very tired, your head 
aches ; to thread your needle and mend those few small rips 
or holes seems a burden. "It is so little I '11 let it go till 
next week, one week's more wear can't make much differ- 
ence." And it is laid aside unmended. How is it when it 
next comes vip from the laundry 1 A huge rent or a most 
appalling hole is the result. A heavy wind arose when the 
clothes were on the line, and with every snap a dozen more 



PKOCRASTINATION. 301 

stitches were added to the work that procrastination has cost 
you, if indeed the garment is not ruined past any repairing. 
" A stitch in time saves nine." 

Some friends have just left your house. During their 
visit much work accumulated, while you felt bou^nd to 
entertain your guests. Either you are with no help, or your 
servants are very busy, and you say, " I '11 take off the soiled 
linen from the bed, and leave the room to air a few days, or 
till a more convenient season." 

The airing is all very proper, but two or three days are 
not needed for it, and, if you leave the bed unmade, you will 
not hnd it wise or at all labor-saving in the end. Let the 
room and bed air until you are ready to take off the sheets 
and pillow-cases that need to be changed. When you go up 
to do that, take with you the clean articles, and being there, 
why not finish the work and leave all in order 1 But, if 
instead of that you say, " We '11 put the ' spare chamber ' in 
order to-morrow," perhaps just as you are retiring, a carriage 
stops at your door, and guests quite unexpected arrive, who 
find it convenient to stop with you overnight, to be ready 
for the morrow's train, and late in the evening the guest- 
chamber must be prepared. Just try this once or twice, — 
you '11 not care to try it oftener, — and see if some one don't 
come unannounced just as, when tired and sleepy, you are 
ready to retire. Will it be any easier to do the work which 
was put off till a " more convenient season," at this late hour, 
than it would have been to have finished it at the proper 
time 1 

" There is hardly enough bread to last through to-mor- 
row." 

" Well, it is stormy ; we sha' n't be likely to have company 
to-morrow. I guess this will answer, or we will stir up some 
biscuit if needed." 

In spite of wind or weather, be sure if you risk the delay 



302 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

you will liave unexpected guests, and will regret that you 
neglected to be ready for the emergency. 

" Here are some letters which should be answered imme- 
diately." 

" I guess it won't make much difference if I leave them 
till to-morrow. I am very busy now." So you wait. Are 
you any less busy to-morrow 1 A head-ache, or a sick child, 
or company prevents an answer then. Your correspondent 
waits anxiously for yoiu' reply, the failure of which may be 
the cause of great inconvenience. 

We could multiply examples, but your own experience 
will fill up the picture, and, if you are wise, teach you that 
each day has its own duties, which can be mastered ; but if 
you add to them the work of yesterday you make the burden 
grievous to be borne. Your old " copy-books " told you, 
when you were young, that Procrastination is the thief of 
time. In riper age remember it. " Never put off till to- 
morrow that which you should do to-day." 



LXXI. 

THE SUREST EEMEDY. 

TO the troubles and annoyances which befaU housekeep- 
ers there is no end, if they are obHged to rely on 
servants for comfort and peace of mind. In social gatherings 
the conversation often turns on the trials they experience 
from this part of their household. It is not at aU strange 
that it should be so, for " out of the abundance of the heart 
the mouth speaketh," and verily in this particular the heart 
has ample reasons for being abundantly fiUed, and there is 
no end to just cause of complaint. 



THE SUREST REMEDY. 303 

One girl is a good worker, but impudent ; another is 
always willing, but very untidy. This one is neat, but so 
slow that her work is never finished. That one is unequalcd 
in order and efficiency, but her temper is so uncertain you 
cannot make a suggestion without risking a storm that quite 
destroys all the pleasure her excellent work might otherwise 
afford you. One is extravagant and wasteful ; another eco- 
nomical in using materials for your family, but dishonest in 
appropriating your property for her own benefit. 

So, in a company of a dozen ladies, one takes up the dis- 
course as the other ends, and, Avithout exaggeration, proves 
her own trials even more vexatious than her neighbors'. It is 
possible that the mistress, by searching, may find some slight 
symptoms of these very defects in her own character. The 
least said on that side of the question the better, perhaps. 
But, as Ave once heard a lady say, " We don't hire servants 
for that sort of actions." 

But, whatever may be the defects of the mistress, we know 
there are very strong foundations on which to build the com- 
plaints about servants ; for it cannot be denied that these 
" troublesome comforts " have it in their power to diminish 
the sum of domestic happiness, to a degree which requires 
much grace and patience to endure Avith equanimity ; and 
that the power they have usurped is on the increase will not, 
Ave imagine, be gainsaid. Once the employes in the family 
fully understood the position they were engaged to fill in 
their employer's house ; and knew that certain service Avas 
paid for, which must be strictly and honestly rendered, or 
they Avould lose their place, and having lost it, unrecom- 
mended, Avould find it difficult to secure another. Once — 
and the time is not so far distant but that most of us can still 
remember it — one girl Avas expected to do the Avork tliat Ave 
are noAV compelled to employ three to do. And this one girl 
did the AVork, and did it well, — far better than we can hope 



304 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

to have it done now. She was not injured by it ; no com- 
plaints were made, we mean in ordinary cases, — in every 
station some may be found who abuse power and cruelly 
oppress those whom circumstances have placed in an inferior 
j)osition ; but these are only solitary cases ; as a general thing 
there was no ground for complaint. The service was kindly 
and cheerfully rendered. But now, with three or four girls, 
the work drags, is imperfectly done, and " the work is too 
hard " is the constant cry. Why is this 1 What reason can 
be assigned for a change so complete and annoying 1 

In part because the foreigners who land on our shores, and 
upon whom, unfortunately, we are obliged to depend for all 
labor which we cannot do ourselves, come to us with strange 
ideas of what is meant by all being " free and equal " ; or, if 
you take one right from the emigrant vessel, it requires but 
a few weeks for those of their nation, who, having been here 
longer, think themselves better informed, to impart their 
knowledge, and teach erroneous ideas of these rights. 
Under such bad influence it takes but a short time for the 
modest stranger, whom you received into your house and en- 
deavored to teach a correct mode of labor, to be transformed 
both in dress and manners into a bold, self-willed girl. Her 
countrywomen gather about her and Avarn her not to be 
"put upon," — a favorite phrase among those whose chief 
aim is to get the highest price for the least labor. " Stand 
up for your rights " ; and they proceed to expound a code of 
" rights " which, if they were allowed to carry into practice, 
would soon leave us entirely at their mercy. 

They are told to insist upon just so many times at church, 
and certain days "out." Then the funerals — and there 
never was such mortality as is always happening among our 
servants' relations, particularly the cousins — and the wed- 
dings, and the baptism of infants for which our girls are to 
stand " sponsors," all come upon us in quick succession. 



THE SUREST REMEDY. 305 

Then, every step of the work each girl is expected to do 
must be carefully defined, and you are not to be allowed to 
call upon them, on any condition, for one thing over and 
above the specihed labor. 

How has this class of persons succeeded in taking and 
maintaining such a stand] In part it has grown up, gradu- 
ally, from seeing in their employers the independence that is 
a distinctive peculiarity in our national character. But that 
which, when rightly regulated, is a noble thing, when used 
by uninformed and undisciplined minds, for selfish ends, is 
not likely to bring forth the most desirable results. 

But is not the trouble and disturbance through our ser- 
vants, which particularly characterizes the present day, in 
part the fault of the ignorance of the mistress % Our ladies 
give much less attention to domestic affairs than in former 
times ; and our young ladies are growing up, for the most 
part, poor housekeepers. The material for the very best of 
servants may be easily ruined by a poor mistress. Much 
time and money is expended on the education of our girls ; 
but that part of education which would help to keep them 
strong and healthful is almost entirely ignored, — we mean 
regular work, at stated times, about the house ; not only to 
establish good health, but to secure a thorough knowledge of 
domestic operations. 

" What time has a young girl to do anything at home % " 
True. What time for home affairs, with the present mode 
of education, and the present customs of social life, have 
young men or maidens? Our teachers know they are ex- 
pected to " fill " their pupils to the utmost extent of their 
mental capacity, and social life grasps every moment that 
can be spared from books or schools, even claiming the 
hoiirs that should be given to sleep. Xo matter about the 
health. " That is not our business," say the educators ; and, 
" That is not our business," echoes Fashion. Our children 



30G MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

go from one study to another — rushing on to be educated 
— as fast as possible ; and, in two years after leaving college 
or seminary, of what practical use will half these studies, 
for which they have given so much time and health, be to 
them 1 Far be it from us to undervalue a thorough, practi- 
cal education, — one that will fit our boys and girls to lead 
good and useful lives. " Its price is above rubies." But 
we sometimes think that they are being educated to death ; 
mind and body enfeebled and made unhealthy for lack of 
practical common-sense on the part of parents and teachers. 
If more time was given to physical labor while our children 
are growing up, and less time to schools, and fewer studies 
crowded into each term, the fathers and mothers would not 
grow old so fast, — being relieved of part of their work ; 
and our young people would have nobler minds in sounder 
bodies. 

But to return to housekeeping, and the young who must 
take that position : let them secure as much knowledge as 
they can without injury to health, but let it be understood 
that, whatever place they may be called upon to occupy, a 
thorough domestic education will be the best foundation on 
which to build, and by which they can best secure happi- 
ness, honor, and usefulness. 

Instead of filling the papers with lamentations because 
they are not permitted certain rights which an unregulated 
ambition urges them to claim, let our women first be certain 
that they fuUy understand how to exercise aU the rights 
which are unalienably their own, and which no one attempts 
to dispute. Let these rights be well cared for and properly 
executed, and who will object to any woman's reaching out 
after, and securing just as many more as she can possibly 
assume and manage successfully, without neglect of other 
duties already her own. Let the highest right, the noblest 
that woman can desire, — for it is next to the angels', — the 



THE SUREST REMEDY. 307 

supreme right which God gave us, and no man disputes or 
can usurp, be fully appreciated and acted upon, — the right 
to make a glorious ho77ie, to make our husbands nobler, 
because they are happy and comfortable there (they don't 
know how to do that, they can't take care of themselves 
without us) ; the right to nurse and rear and bless our 
children ; the right, with the ability, to teach our servants 
by our own practice how to be a blessing to themselTes and 
to us. Then enter the lists, if you choose, and do battle for 
just as many of what have been called mans rights as you 
are capable of managing well, or have any ambition for. 

Until these first duties are understood and properly per- 
formed the prospects for home comforts and happiness are 
very shadowy. The fault is not wholly with the servants. 
If those duties which belong to the mistress are delegated 
to uneducated, ill-informed subordinates, what, even with 
the very best intentions, can you expect but anarchy and 
misrule 1 Care and experience are as essential to good 
housekeeping and home comforts as in any other profession 
or field of labor. 

The lawyer cannot look for success in his profession if he 
simply opens an office and delegates the care to an ignorant 
office-boy, while he himself knows nothing about law, and 
never studies. The doctor gives years of time and study- 
before he attempts to practice. The merchant goes through 
a long apprenticeship before he commences business for him- 
self ; but our young girls leave the school-room to assume a 
right of which they know nothing, — the privilege and 
honor of making a home. If women would only understand 
how much skill and power is requisite, what a noble, honor- 
able thing it is to succeed, or become eminent as a home- 
maker, there would be fewer boarding-houses, fewer miser- 
able, dissipated husbands, fewer fast, wild, reckless children, 
and fewer worthless servants. 



308 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

LXXII. 

A FEW LITTLE THINGS. 

'TXT'E take up now a few perplexities which are apt to 
V V disturb the equanimity of the young housekeeper, 
and propose to give some minute directions for the better 
performance of those " little tilings " which so often dis- 
courage the beginner, such as the building of fires, dust- 
ing, etc. 

With an open grate or fireplace in daily use, it is very 
necessary, before any dusting can be thought of, to clear out 
the grate, remove the ashes, and kindle the fire ; for nothing 
so fills a room with dust as the necessary work about a fire 
of any kind, even with the most careful management. To 
be ready to do this, or in a condition to instruct a girl how 
to do it, it is important that the necessary implements and 
conveniences should be on hand, and in a suitable condition 
for easy and successful operation. 

And, first, a coarse piece of bagging, or an old bit of car- 
peting, or, if you have neither, a large piece of stout brown 
wrapping-paper, should be kept in an appropriate place, ready 
for this part of the morning's work ; even old newspapers 
will answer, though by no means so convenient or durable 
as bagging. Spread a large strip before the grate or fireplace 
to protect the oil-cloth or carpet from ashes and cinders while 
you are clearing out the grates. This done, lift up the fen- 
der or polished hearth-pan, always in front of a grate, and 
set it down on the floor-cloth or bagging. Put up the 
blower, and with the poker rake out all the ashes that can 
be shaken from the under part of the grate. By keeping 
the blower up while doing this, most of the ashes which 



A FEW LITTLE THINGS. 309 

Avould otherwise float over the room, lodge in the furniture 
or carpet, and in the end do them much injury, will be made 
to fly up chimney. Having thus removed all the ashes, you 
can take the blower down and rake again smartly from the 
top until only the half-burnt coals remain. 

]^ow, with a stout, coarse holder kept expressly for that 
purpose, take the ash-pan, full of ashes, from under the grate, 
and empty it in an ash-barrel in the cellar, or out-doors ; by 
no means empty them from the pan into an empty coal-hod 
in the room, as is too often done. Be careful that no live 
coals go into the barrel. You will be obliged to watch a 
girl very carefully about this " little thing," or, under the 
silly idea that it saves work, most girls will do this so care- 
lessly when you are not by, that your rooms will be filled 
with ashes by their foUy. 

When the ashes have been emptied, if your grate rests on 
cleats or is fitted into sockets, lift it off and turn into the 
ash-pan the half-burned coals which remain, to be taken out 
and sifted before using again ; then, placing the grate on the 
bagging, with a small whisk-broom proceed to brush down 
into the pan all the soot and ashes that have lodged on the 
sides and back of the fireplace. Do this gently, so as to 
avoid sending it out into the room. When done, remove the 
pan, sweep up any ashes or litter that may be on the hearth, 
wash it clean, and put back the grate and ash-pan into their 
proper places. Set up the fender, roU up a quantity of waste 
paper and put into the grate (if thrown in loosely it will burn 
out instantly before the kindling catches), put on the kind- 
ling, and start the fire. If where you can get col-e from 
the gas-houses for the foundation of the fire, it will, we 
think, prove good economy, for you will need but two or 
three pieces of kindling, as it ignites readily without a 
blower, making a very warm fire, and soon causing the hard 
coal to burn brightly. 



310 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Here, also, great watchfulness is requisite if you trust to a 
servant to start fires, for, unless closely followed, they will 
persist in half filling the grate with kindling, even when 
they are provided with coke, and need to use but very little 
wood. In the city, where wood is so dear, economy in 
kindling-wood becomes quite important. 

The tire having been kindled, the rooms can now be set 
in order. Of course the window-blinds were opened the first 
thing after dressing in the morning, that gas or lamps might 
not be left to burn needlessly. We are tempted to stop, 
before dusting, and say a word on the extravagant use of gas 
or oil by the servants about a house, but we must leave that 
for another time, and proceed to finish the first part of every 
morning's work. 

In dusting, a soft but not too fine cloth should be first 
used. At almost all dry-goods stores cloths are to be had 
with soft, tufted nap, especially adapted for dusters ; but an 
old towel may be kept for that purpose, and answers very 
well if you cannot obtain these. Gently wipe up with the 
dusting-cloth whatever ashes or dust may have settled over 
the mantel or furniture, but do not wipe it off on to the floor 
to settle again into the carpet or furniture in the room, — that 
would be spending time for naught, — and as you proceed take 
it up into the dust-cloth, and every little while shake it out 
of the window or door. In this way go over everything 
once, that the greatest part of the dust may be disposed of, 
being particular to wipe in and around moldings, carvings, 
and cornices, Avhere dust seems more inclined to rest than 
on the plainer surfaces. This finished, go over all again with 
an old silk handkerchief or chamois-sldn, rubbing hard 
enough to remove spots or finger-marks, and bring a nice 
clean polish on the furniture or ornaments in the room. If 
you have pictures hung round the walls, a long-handled 
feather-brush is quite necessary, especially if the room is 



A FEW LITTLE THINGS. 311 

high studded, as city rooms generally are at the present 
day. You cannot sj)are the time every morning to bring 
in a step-ladder in order to dust the tops of the picture- 
frames or the casings and moldings over and around doors 
and windows ; but if left some days untouched, the moths 
will soon find it out and take up their abode in such desir- 
able quarters. The long feather-brush wiU easily remove 
most of the light dirt that settles in such high places, but do 
not use it with a sharp, quick flourish, as whatever dust 
lodges so high cannot be taken up with the coarse dusting- 
cloth, and must, of course, if disturbed, fall to the floor, but 
if brushed oti" rashly, will fly over everything. For this 
reason the tops of pictures and doors should be dusted 
first, that there may be an opportunity to remove what- 
ever settles unavoidably when going over other parts of the 
room. 

Every three or four weeks the tall step-ladder is needed, 
and then all these places which cannot be reached other- 
wise must be well cleaned and rubbed, and the casings of 
windows and doors wiped clean with a wet cloth. This 
work, when done, must always be after the regular sweeping- 
days. 

Windows require attention every day ; we do not mean, to 
be washed every day, but to be dusted and have the spots 
carefully rubbed off". The dust from the streets finds easy 
entrance, and settles readily on the window-panes, which 
would soon become dim and blurred without daily oversight. 
Especially is this the case in damp weather, or when one 
lives near salt air. Brush each window with a short-handed 
feather-brush, if you have one ; if not, save and dry tur- 
keys' wings, or the long tail-feathers from any poultry, tie 
them up neatly, and you secure an inexpensive feather-brush, 
and as effective as if bought at the store. If you find spots 
or finger-marks on the window-glass, put your mouth to the 



312 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

spot and breathe sharply on it ; then, before your breath 
evaporates, rub quickly with a clean linen cloth or a cha- 
mois-skin, and you will be well repaid for your labor. 

It requires some time and many words to explain, as mi- 
nutely as you wish, how all these little things should be done ; 
but if you are methodical, you will soon learn to work quick- 
ly as well as thoroughly, and will be very much surprised 
to see how short a time is needed to do all that we have 
been so long telling. You will use less time, take the month 
through, by careful dusting and necessary cleaning each day 
than — neglecting this duty — you would be compelled to give 
every few weeks in one great cleaning effort, by which the 
whole family must be incommoded, meals delayed, poorly 
cooked, or dispensed with altogether for the time being, be- 
cause it is " cleaning day." !N"o wonder husbands shrink 
from such days, preferring dirty rooms aU the time to having 
clean ones, for which they pay such unsatisfactory premiums. 
A little quiet care and cleaning every day will, we think, 
secure the largest amount of freedom, and certainly much 
more pleasure and happiness for all, than these dreaded days 
of confusion and discomfort. 



LXXIII. 

PLANNING FOR THE WEEK. 

NOTHING so simplifies labor as a well-defined, regular 
plan for each day's specific duties. At first, to one un- 
accustomed to systematic work, it may be difficult to get into 
the track, and follow the route until it is so familiar that it 
becomes almost second nature. But with each effort, duties 
thus methodically performed will be easier, and when the 



PLANNING FOR THE WEEK. 313 

plan you design to follow has been well digested, and each 
l^art so adapted as to reach toward the good of the whole, 
labor will not only be greatly diminished, but a positive 
pleasure in the performance of duties so perfectly organized 
will be the crowning reward. 

Yet to arrange a plan for each day requires thought and 
judgment, and she must be a wonderful character who, from 
the beginning, can so perfect a code of laws for the regular 
discharge of household labor, that no modification or change 
will be necessary. If a young housekeeper, at the end of 
one year's trial, begins to feel somewhat at home in her do- 
minions, she should be well content, nor allow a shadow of 
discouragement to mar her comfort, even if now and then 
she finds her carefully planned rules requiring some little 
adjustment, to secure a smooth and easy action. Try, and 
reject, until you have secured a plan by which you, the 
mistress, can best manage others, or yourself perform the 
work. No one can tell you by what rules you can best gov- 
ern your domains. Suggestions may be given, which will be 
of great service in enabling you to arrive at the desired 
results in the most successful and expeditious manner; but 
further than that, the worTc to do is yottrs, and not anoth- 
er s. Each one must work oiit the problem of what is best 
for herself individually, with what aid she can glean from 
the experience of others, according as it shall be congenial, 
or adapted to her owai peculiar way of working and her 
own peculiar position. 

Even those daughters who are fresh from the wise instruc- 
tions of a mother, who led them with her through a daily 
round of cares until they are as skillful in domestic manage- 
ment as she is herself, will not find, when they enter the 
marriage state, the duties of their new homes exactly like 
those of their mother. Many things may, and doubtless 
will, compel a somewhat different administration, although 
14 



314 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

the fundamental princii^les will be still the same. The hus- 
hand's position may demand change in the mode of pro- 
ceedings to Avhichshe has, from childhood, been accustomed. 
His tastes or means may render it advisable that the wife 
should modify or enlarge her rules for the performance of 
domestic duties. The desired change may, from necessity, or 
from whims, which for permanent happiness she Avill be wise 
to humor, be so abnipt and entire as to require almost a new 
mode of action and labor, calling for much deliberation be- 
fore it can be perfectly satisfactory ; and of course this will be 
almost like commencing an education from the beginning. 

Different homes and diverse tastes demand, and justly, to 
be regulated on somewhat different plans. IN'ew duties, and 
new modes of performing them, are opened to the young 
housekeeper, however efficient she may have been in all do- 
mestic affairs under her mother's eye ; but this should be no 
reason for discouragement or self-reproach. Put the mother 
in the daughter's place, and she might find it equally strange, 
and no easier to rearrange her code of laws for domestic 
labor, only so far as age and longer experience has taught 
her more wisdom and greater facility in regulating house- 
hold affairs. But whatever the style or position, there is none, 
hoAveA^er high or low, that is not improved and the work 
simplified by systematic arrangement. Let each day of the 
week have its OAvn peculiar work, modified or varied, of 
course, by changes Avhich cannot be foreseen, — such as sick- 
ness, absence of part of the family, unexpected company, 
invited guests, or holidays. 

And here let us say, it is desirable, Avhen you invite friends 
to dinner or tea, that you choose such days as are the least 
filled Avith work Avhich cannot be Avell set aside, — such as 
washing, ironing, etc., — so that you may take time for en- 
tertaining your guests, Avithout the burden of feeling that you 
are compelled to leaA^e for to-morroAV the Avork that should 



PLANNING FOR THE WEEK. 315 

have been done to-day, and, by so doing, to lay up for your- 
self too heavy burdens and unsettle the regular course of labor 
for the rest of the week. 

We do not propose to give rules for any one. That would 
be quite impossible, as so much depends on the taste of the 
master and mistress, the number of the family, and of the 
servants employed. But there are a few things which, in our 
opinion, will make the work easier, and increase the comfort 
of all concerned. For instance, on Saturday all the clothes 
for changes should be laidf^ut, so that the Sabbath may find 
us arrayed in spotless garments. And this being done, as all 
the soiled clothes are ready, it would seem that Monday must, 
almost of necessity, be set apart as the established ivashing- 
day. Of course, if one has a laundry distinct from the 
kitchen, as soon as the washing and ironing of one week is 
finished, the range wiU be cleaned out, ashes brushed ofi", 
kindling laid, and floor scrubbed, all for the next week ; 
and if everything is tlius in order, it must be an uncommonly 
large family if the washing is not all done, clothes-lines and 
pins brought in, and, in winter, coarse clothes sprinkled and 
folded, in good time on Monday night. This should be ]\Ion- 
day's work, somewhat modified, perhaps, according to the help 
employed in this department. When two or three girls are 
employed in one house, as we have before said, we do not 
think it the most comfortable way for the cooh to take charge 
of the washing. Let her help, if necessary, as she may find 
time ; but if she first performs her regular duties, the family 
will be more comfortable ; and if the second girl has charge of 
the washing, the clothes will, or should be, more satisfactorily 
done by one steady hand. Let Tuesday be for ironing. 
Wednesday the chamber-maid and laundress will need for 
cleaning the laundry and halls, wiping off finger-marks from 
doors, and any chamber- work which did not receive particular 
attention Monday or Tuesday. The cook will need by Wednes- 



316 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

day to clean up her tins, floors, closets, or if company or the 
family require, to do some extra cooking. On Thursday the sil- 
ver should be carefully looked over and jDolished by chamois- 
skin, after washing in hot soapsuds, or with whiting if any 
brown spots are found. Friday is the best day for sweeping, 
and seeing that mattresses and bedsteads are free from dust ; 
which, if left to accumulate, will breed moths and other ver- 
min. Saturday may be employed in cleaning parlors, wash- 
ing windows, polishing door-haudles, bell-pulls, and stair-rods, 
and a thorough oversight of the h'ouse generally. 

These items are only by way of suggestions, to be fiUed up 
or discarded as the housekeeper's judgment, taste, or position 
may deem advisable. We only claim that, having once ex- 
amined and become fully persuaded in your own mind what 
your position and the comfort of your family demand, you 
should settle upon some well-considered plan, and then deter- 
mine to carry it into practice, as far as possible, with prompt- 
ness and regularity. Take time to consider; try, and try 
again ; but having settled what is best, act upon it without 
flinching. 



LXXIV. 

SHOPPING. 



"T"T"7"E have heard from ladies remarks like the following : 
VV " Before I was married, and cares and responsibil- 
ities became more and more exacting every year, there Avas 
nothing I used to enjoy more than roaming from shop to shop, 
seeing everything that was to be seen, but without the re- 
sponsibility of purchasing, because my mother always at- 
tended to that. My shopping in those days was only to 
gratify curiosity. But noAV it must be done in earnest, with- 



SHOPPING. 317 

out shopping for sight-seeing or loitering, — the only desirable 
part of the business." 

Kow, I cannot but think this waste of time and gratifica- 
tion of a childish curiosity in young women altogether wrong. 
The amount of " shopping," as it is called, done from no ne- 
cessity, but only to while away the time, is very great, par- 
ticularly by young ladies who have no intention of purchas- 
ing. While there are books to be read, semng to be done, 
mothers to be helped, and their burdens lightened by their 
daughters' loving care, and painting, drawing, and music to 
be practiced, we don't understand how time can hang heavy 
on one's hands. Pleasant walks and rides, lectures, concerts, 
and picture-galleries, can surely furnish all the exercise and 
recreation that is needed or at all desirable, and will be much 
more conducive to the improvement of the mind and strength- 
ening of the body than this too prevalent custom of saunter- 
ing through the streets, gazing into the windows, or visiting 
the stores, looking at and handling everything one fancies, 
but buying nothing. Many evils spring from this absurd 
method of taJcing exercise, or wasting time. There can be no 
healthy exercise in loitering in a croAvded and perhaps iU- 
lighted, poorly ventilated store ; for capacious, airy, and well- 
ventdated establishments are not common. The effect of 
such dissipation on the mind and character cannot be enno- 
bling. To watch and criticise the people who pass, to remark 
on their dress, manners, and pecuHarities, is almost certain to 
establish an unkind, censorious habit, and, in the end, make 
those who practice it confirmed gossips, — the most unlovable 
and unsafe of all characters. A love of dress ; a desire to imi- 
tate or surpass those who are the most extravagant in their 
outlays ; an envious disposition ; dissatisfaction with their 
own condition and the income allowed for their dress ; long- 
ing to cast aside good clothes and secure the newest and most 
stylish, every time the shopping farce is performed, — are 



318 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

some of the evils which, it is to be feared, will grow out of 
this propensity ; and added to this, another stiU more to be 
deprecated, — the selfish disregard for the feelings and inter- 
ests of others. 

It is painful to observe with what recklessness our young 
ladies will sit at a counter and call for one j^iece of goods after 
another, until the shelves before them are almost entirely 
stripped, — tossing one article here and another there, throw- 
ing heavy goods upon delicate articles, while the perplexed 
clerk endeaA''ors to hide his anxiety, and shield his Avares from 
harm, in the most gentlemanly and unobtrusive manner ; but 
his politeness and delicacy are wasted, for this class of shop- 
pers care little for the discomfort of a clerk. 

In this manner they flit from counter to counter, wast- 
ing not only their own time, but that of the employes in 
the store, and exciting false hopes of a good sale, and then, 
without a word of apology for the trouble they have given, 
leave that store to go through the same folly at other estab- 
lishments. 

A few days since we witnessed a most provoking display 
of this manner of wasting time, and by no means an uncom- 
mon occurrence. All the room for some distance on one side 
of the store, and two or tliree of the clerks, were monopoHzed 
by a party of young girls, — we fear they thought themselves 
entitled to be addressed as young ladies. The earnestness 
with which they called for one class of goods after another 
warranted the attendants in anticipating a large sale ; 
but when woolens, silks, linens, ribbons, and laces were 
heaped around them in great abundance, and many really 
earnest purchasers had been kept long Avaiting for attendance, 
or, not having time, had been obliged to go elsewhere, these 
girls carelessly rose and turned to leave. 

" I am sorry we can show you nothing satisfactory," cour- 
teously remarked one of the clerks. 



SHOPPING. 319 

" 0, we did n't come in to buy, — only to look around," 
replied the leader of this iU-mannered party, with a scornful 
air ; and an absurd, silly giggle went through the party as 
they left the store, evidently satisfied that they had had a 
good time and played off a smart joke on the clerks. 

The expression of disappointment suddenly changed to con- 
tempt, visible among the young men who had so politely 
waited upon those thoughtless girls, was very significant of 
their estimate of such characters. If their mothers could 
have seen the whole performance, and, giving each a good 
shaking, sent them home to learn good manners, and a proper 
use of time by a term of labor in the kitchen, we should have 
been thankful. 

But in the case of the "mother and hoiisekeeper," who in- 
quires hoAv real, earnest, practical shopping may be disarmed 
of its terrors, and made easy and simple, we would say there 
is nothing easier if you begin right. Before leaving home on 
a shopping expedition, be " fully persuaded in your own 
mind " that you know just what you want, what you must 
have, and how much you are willing and can afford to pay for 
wliat you desire to purchase. Make out a plain list that you 
can understand at a glance, and when you enter the store call 
first for the must-haves, examine the quality and pattern, 
and ascertain if the price is such as to justify you in buying. 
Then, if satisfied on those points, look at various patterns of 
the same fabric and price, and select the one that pleases you 
the most perfectly, and, naming the quantity and place to 
send, pass on to other departments. Don't allow your atten- 
tion to wander to anything but the article under considera- 
tion, until you have decided that item. If it is a dress, ex- 
amine and decide before looking at sheeting or table-linen or 
anything else. That settled, pass on to the next topic on 
your list, and so continue until you have finished the work 
you had arranged to do. Then, if you have a little leisure. 



320 MOTHEELY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

you can look about you at the various articles displayed, grati- 
fying your love of fine things, and gaining an insight into 
the quality and price of articles you may need in time ; only 
take care that when your purchases are finished, you do not 
interfere with other purchasers, or engross the time of busy 
clerks unduly. In making out a list, classify the articles 
you are intending to buy, putting groceries, crockery, books, 
dry goods, etc., each by themselves, and begin at the nearest 
place. By this method you will save yourself much time 
and fatigue. 

These are very simple rules ; but try them and see if shop- 
ping is any longer a duty to be " dreaded." 



LXXV. 

DUSTING. 



AMOl!^G the many httle things a good housekeeper 
should vigilantly watch over, while trying- to teach 
a child or inexperienced girl, careful and thorough dusting 
is one of the most prominent. It is not alone those who are 
confessedly ignorant that require this supervision, but one 
half of all the hired help we ever saw have never been trained 
to do that kind of labor perfectly. They are accustomed to 
look at it as being of less importance, and more easily shghted 
without attracting notice and subjecting themselves to re- 
buke, than other portion of their duties. They may be very 
capable in many other parts of the work allotted to them, 
yet lamentably fail when they undertake to dust a room. A 
parlor- or chamber-maid may begin her Avork properly. With 
broom, whisk, duster, and dust-pan, with short sleeves, a 
clean handkerchief or cap over the head to protect the hair 



DUSTING. 321 

from dust, she commences to clean and " put the room to 
rights " in the most approved manner. Books, papers, works 
of art, ornaments, or furnitiu^e — everytliing movable — are 
carried into the next room if convenient, or if not, neatly 
covered from the dust, which must necessarily be raised while 
sweeping ; thus leaving the floor as nearly vacant as possi- 
ble, to facilitate that operation. 

But, if superintending this work done by a new girl, you 
will notice that, however methodical in aU else pertaining to 
her work, she does not stop to clean, carefully dust, and 
polish each article, as she takes it from the room, and by so 
doing have them all ready to set back again, with no delay, 
when the room is well swept and dusted. She seems to have 
no idea that this Avill simplify her work, save time and extra 
handling, and, as often happens, in case of any necessity 
for unusual haste in finishing the work, be a great conven- 
ience. But, seeing how like a good worker the girl takes 
hold of the other portions of her labor, you perhaps think it 
not best to embarrass her by too many criticisms at first, 
having no fear but at the close of the sweeping the dusting 
will be well done ; called away by other duties, you leave her 
to finish, on the whole well pleased, and hopeful that you 
have secured one who will prove faithful and reliable, re- 
lieving you from constant watchfulness in her department. 

On your return, the first glance atjthe room confirms your 
hopes, but by a second look your dream of peace grows 
shadowy. The room is nicely swept, the furniture placed 
more nearly in the proper position than, for a first trial, you 
had expected ; but there the charm vanishes. Such dust- 
ing ! It must have been attempted ; for you see the mark 
of the dusting-cloth, as if hastily passed over, or brushed 
across the plain surfaces of tables, chairs, etc., but looking 
more as if flies or spiders had run races over them, than like 
the efforts of a human hand to dust the room. Here and 
14* u 



322 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

there some one or two articles have iDeen tolerably polished, 
but wherever there is any elaborate carving, intricate mold- 
ing, or dainty piece of statuary, requiring extra care, the 
dust has settled, aud lies unmolested in ugly masses, defacing 
or concealing all the beauty. 

You summon the girl, trying all the time to school your 
heart and voice to patience. You show her the dust, and, 
taking the work into yon.r own hands, proceed to give her 
practical demonstration of how the work can and must be 
done. As you pass from one article to another, you explain 
the injury to furniture and ornaments which will follow 
careless dusting. Point out how speedily dust hides in the 
moldings and carvings, and show her how to gain access to 
all the intricate and troublesome ornamental Avork. As you 
proceed she sees hoAV easily and perfectly it can be done ; 
but do not flatter yourself that this lesson, so thoroughly and 
plainly given, will relieve you from the responsibility of 
following up your chamber-maid Avith continued Avatchful- 
ness and reminders. Be prepared to repeat this lesson every 
week, and at the end of months find the repetition still 
necessary. If you do not find this so, you may thank God 
and take courage, for you have secured a treasure Avhich you 
will do Avell to cherish. 

It is because our servants are so inclined to slight this 
seemingly small, but really A^ery important part of domestic 
economy, that we think mothers should begin early to teach 
their little daughters how to dust a room, and poUsh, by 
thorough dusting, all the furniture and articles of beauty. 
Let them take first lessons in learning to keep their play- 
room and playthings free from dust, and the knowledge thus 
gained in j^lay will soon be of much practical and valuable 
assistance to their mothers. We know there are some chil- 
dren naturally careless and flighty, Avhile others are born 
neat and methodical. This difference is very observable in 



A CHAPTER ON SOUPS. 323 

children of the same family, trained by the same mother, 
with equal care ; and mothers soon understand that one child 
must be looked after, in every step of her way toward be- 
coming a practical, useful, helpful daughter and woman, 
more than the other. Such children draw very heavily on 
their mother's strength, patience, and hopefuhiess ; but if 
the child is of an affectionate disposition, in the end love and 
experience will conquer. 

There is great need that mothers be not discouraged in 
their endeavors to teach their daughters all that pertains to 
practical domestic economy ; for, if we are not greatly mis- 
taken, the time is not far off when we shall all feel the 
necessity of looking to our daughters to assist us in the nicer 
parts of housework, if we would have comfortable, happy 
homes ; relying on servants only for the coarser, harder parts 
that would tax our strength too severely, or engross our time 
too much, to leave any for social life or intellectual improve- 
ment. These must receive their full share of our attention ; 
but the home cares have equal claims. Let there be an 
equal distribution, giving to each her portion in due season, 
and there will be less waste and extravagance, and lighter 
hearts and happier homes. 



LXXVI. 

A CHAPTER ON SOUPS. 

HESITATIOJ^ in taking the first steps in any new en- 
terprise or new work is very common. "With some 
it springs from great caution ; with others, from lack of con- 
fidence in their own ability. They magnify troubles which 
may arise, and imagine all manner of difficulties, until A^ery 



324 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

small and easy fluties are clothed, in a mystery which they 
shrink from solving. 

In working, a novice, if at all timid or lacking self-reli- 
ance, often keeps herself in a constant state of alarm lest she 
make some great mistake, and, strange as it may seem, few 
things in the whole round of cooking-experiments assume a 
more formidable aspect than the simple act of making a 
soup. It is a mystery which grows more uncanny the 
longer it is looked at from a distance ; but lay your hand 
upon it, and you will soon learn that you have been fright- 
ened at a shadow. 

There are several things preliminary to making soup 
which are quite essential. First of all, it is desirable, 
though not absolutely indispensable, that you provide your- 
self with the best and most convenient utensils. 

A stock-pot is usually a large, round kettle, with a closely 
fitting cover, into which the meat or bones and odd bits 
for preparing the stock or broth for soups are put, to be 
cooked. It is generally made of iron or copper. 

A soup-digester is a kind of stock-pot made wholly of 
iron; The lid fits closely into a groove in the top of the 
digester, with a projecting piece which, when turned till it 
meets the socket or notch on each side of the groove, acts 
like a lock, holding the lid on tightly. In that respect it is 
far better than the stock-pot, for nothing can boil over in the 
digester, and no steam escapes except through the valve at 
the top of the cover. They are to be obtained at almost 
all hardware stores, and are of all sizes, from three quarts 
to ten gallons. 

ISText, having provided the utensils, good " stock " of va- 
rious kinds should be kept constantly on hand, regulating 
the qtiantity prepared at one time by the state of the 
weather and the size of your family. In summer, in a cool 
cellar, it will keep, by frequent scalding, several days. In 



A CHAPTER ON SOUPS. 325 

winter it is safe to keep it much longer, only, like every- 
thing else, it requires to be looked after carefully. Few- 
soups can be of the best quality without a strong stock to 
start with. Liebig's Extracts of Meat answers very well 
for a substitute, but is better used in connection with the 
stock. 

Every bit of meat w' hich is left over, that cannot be satis- 
factorily employed otherwise, should go at once into the 
stock-pot or digester. Bones, after carving from them all the 
meat that can be advantageously secured, must be well 
cracked and added to the other pieces. The vessel should 
be always near, ready to receive any stray morsel. When 
enough is collected to make a good quantity of stock, put 
cold water to the pieces ; for the juices, which are what you 
desire to obtain, are much more readily extracted in cold 
water than in hot. On the contrary, meats that are to be 
boiled for table use should always be put into boiling water, 
which closes the outer surfaces instantly, thus retaining the 
juices. 

When the water is added, set the digester over a moderate 
fire, where the contents will not boil rapidly, only simmer. 
After it begins to boil, add salt and pepper. Opinions dif- 
fer as to the length of time needed in the preparation of 
good stock ; but it is generally allowed to simmer most of 
the day, which is too long, and it thereby becomes muddy. 
We think a few hours' boiling will extract all the juice, and 
make better stock than longer. Eemember that stock should 
have more salt, pepper, and seasoning than would be desir- 
able in the soup to be made from it. 

When done, strain it into a large stone pot, kept for that 
purpose exclusively, and cover closely till morning, when 
the fat will all rise to the top and harden, and should then 
be removed. Xever allow stock to remain in the stock- pot or 
digester overnight ; for, even when there is no copper to 



326 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

render it unsafe, it will assuredly taste of the iron, and the 
flavor be very greatly injured by it. 

If you have no bones or bits of meat on hand to make 
stock with, a knuckle of beef or veal can be procured with 
little expense ; or, if a rich soup is desired, several kinds of 
meat should be mixed. For instance : Take four pounds of 
the shin of beef, four pounds of the knuckle of veal, and a 
half-pound of good lean ham — any scraps of poultry, 
necks, wings, etc. — that may chance to be unused. Three 
onions, three carrots, one head of celery, a few chopped 
mushrooms, two or three fresh tomatoes, or Avhat Avould be 
equal to them in canned tomatoes, if they can be obtained ; 
just a shake of savory herbs and parsley, and, in cold Aveather, 
three turnips. In warm weather turnips will cause the stock 
to ferment. Add an ounce and a half of salt, one table-spoon- 
ful of sugar, twelve white pepper-corns, six cloves, three 
small bits of mace, and four quarts of water. Line the 
nicely cleaned digester, after well buttering it, with the ham 
cut in thin, broad slices carefully trimmed from all the outer 
f;it that may taste too strong of the smoke, or which is at all 
rusty. Then cut all the meat from the beef and veal into 
about three-inch pieces, and lay them over the ham. Set it 
on the stove, and when all is delicately and equally broAvned, 
put in the beef and veal bones, well cracked, the bits of 
poultry-trimmings, and pour over aU four quarts of cold 
water. When it comes to the boihng-point, bring to the 
side of the stove or range, skim very carefully, adding now 
and then a little cold water, to stop rapid boiling. Let it 
simmer in this Avay till it is quite clear, and then put in all 
the vegetables and other ingredients, and keep it simmering 
over the stove five hours. Do not let it at any time come to 
a brisk boil, as that will waste the stock and injure the color. 

When done, strain through a fine hair-sieve or cloth into 
a large stone stock-jar, and cover up carefully till needed. 



A CHAPTER ON SOUPS. 327 

Prepared in this way, a stock will keep in cool weather a 
long time, if kept covered closely from the air, by occasion- 
ally scalding, and is always on hand when you wish a rich 
soup. While it is cooking, in adding water to stop boiling, 
be sure that you add enough to supply that wasted in steam, 
so that when done and strained you will have four quarts 
of liquid. One quart will be sufficient for the stock for 
four rich soups. 

A less rich stock may be ob;.ained by using less meat and 
seasoning, or by carefully saving the water in which fresh 
meat or fowls have been boiled, adding vegetables and sea- 
soning to suit yourself. Let it simmer gently for six hours, 
skimming it carefully, and then strain and set aside for use. 

White stock, for white soup, is made like the rich stock ; 
only, instead of browning the meat before adding any 
water, you should rub the digester with butter, lay in the 
meat, moisten with half a pint of water, and simmer slowly, 
until the gravy begins to flow ; then add five quarts of cold 
water and such vegetables and seasoning as you prefer, or 
the same as for rich stock, and let all simmer five hours. 
When stronger stock is required, double the quantity of veal, 
or put in an old fowl. The liquor in which a young turkey 
has been boiled is excellent for white stocks or soups. 

Broivning for soups is made with two ounces of powdered 
sugar and half a pint of water. Put the sugar in a smooth, 
clean saucepan over a slow fire till it begins to melt ; keep 
it in motion with a wooden spoon all the time until it be- 
comes black, when the water should be added. Let it dis- 
solve in the water, then cork closely, and use only a few 
drops when required. In France an onion is burnt to put 
with the browning ; but all browning, although it adds 
somewhat to the looks of some kinds of soups, does not often 
improve the flavor. 

To clarify stocks or soups which are sometimes a little 



328 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

muddy, carefully separate the whites of eggs from the yelks, 
and use the whites to clear the soup. One egg to every 
quart of stock or soup to be clarified. Beat well together, 
with one fourth of a j)int of Abater to every egg, and, still 
beating, add gradually to the stock, which should be just 
Avarm. Then place it over the fire, and Avhen it boils skim 
thoroughly, whisk it Avell, and draw the kettle to the side 
of the stove, to let it settle till the whites of the eggs become 
separated from the soup ; then strain through a fine cloth, 
and, if rightly done, the stock or soup Avill be clear. 

Thus, as will be readily understood, Ave have given most 
important preliminary steps toward making soup. In the 
next article Ave give directions for making several kinds of 
soups, and thereby answer several requests in one chapter. 



LXXVII. 

MOEE ABOUT SOUPS. 

MANY suppose they can obtain just as good soup by 
preparing the whole between breakfast and dinner, 
claiming that the idea of keeping " stock " on hand is a fool- 
ish one, and an increase of the cares and labors of proAdding. 
"We think this is a mistake, springing from ignorance in some 
cases, in others from the fact that the objectors have ncA^er 
tried what seems to us the better way. It is certainly the 
most economical, and on trial we are sure Avill be found a 
saving of time and labor, instead of an additional tax. 

By allowing the material for stock to simmer sloAvly, one 
obtains the foundation for the strongest and best flavored 
soup Avhich can be made from flesh. Whereas, if the meat 
is taken in the morning, and prepared for dinner the same 



MORE ABOUT SOUPS. 329 

day, one must hasten matters, and cannot take time to sepa- 
rate the meat in small pieces, or have a soup free from muddy 
streaks and a strong, disagreeable flavor. 

Liebig objects to cooking the stock for any great length of 
time, because he assumes, and justly, that the albumen and 
fibrin -which, after protracted cooking, will rise hard and 
bony, cannot be so thoroughly separated as not to leave some 
disagreeable flavor, and take away much of the real nutriment 
of the soup. He says if we take one pound of beef free 
from fat, and separate it from the bones finely, as for mince- 
meat or sausages ; then mix it uniformly in its own Aveight 
of cold water, heat it slowly to a boiling point, and allow the 
liquid to boil briskly for only a few minutes ; then strain 
through a towel to free it from the coagulated albumen and 
flbrin which will be mixed with it, we can, by this short 
boiHng, secure an equal weight of the most aromatic soup or 
beaf-tea, of such strength as cannot be obtained, even by 
boiling for hours, from a solid piece of flesh. Youmans says, 
by long boiling the rich part of the meat extracted by the 
cold water coagulates and becomes insoluble, instead of re- 
maining dissolved in the soup, as it should do, in order to 
secure the most highly nutritious substance of the meat. A 
piece of flesh put into boiling water undivided is in the most 
unfavorable condition possible for making good soup. It is 
customary to protract the boiling, because it is supposed to 
thicken and enrich the soup. 

We have no doubt, if the mistress could oversee the whole 
process, that a better soup would be obtained by less than 
the four or five hours' cooking which we recommended in our 
last article for stock. But if she is obliged to commit the 
preparing of stock or soups to willing but careless hands, who 
half the time do not cut the meat up fine or crack the bones, 
a longer time is necessary to extract the full flavor, which 
will not then be as pure. 



330 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

What are called clear soups should be of a light straw 
color, and not too strongly flavored with the meat. 

White, or thick soiq)s must only be thick enough to adhere 
slightly to the spoon when hot. 

Puree consists of vegetables or meat reduced to a very- 
smooth pulp, and then mixed with enough stock to make a 
thick soup like most of the bean or pea soups. 

One of the most generally palatable soups is the tzirtle or 
black bean sou^^, with rich beef stock for the foundation. 

Soak a pint and a half of the beans overnight in plenty 
of lukewarm water. In the morning drain off all the water 
and cover with fresh cold water ; see that your soup-digester 
is perfectly cleaned, and three quarts of beef stock put in it, 
then set it over the fire. (Of course you never allow your 
digester or soup- pot to be put away without being thoroughly 
cleaned ; but sometimes girls have been known to forget or 
make a mistake ; and it is best for many reasons that all uten- 
sils should be examined thoroughly, rinsed with hot water, 
and wiped dry each time you take them out for use, if 
only to remove what dust may settle on them while in the 
closet.) 

As soon as your kettle is in order and the stock in it, 
drain off the water from the beans ; put them into the stock 
and set at once over the fire where it will come to a boil 
slowly. As soon as that takes place, set it a little one side, 
and it will simmer, not quite boil, till time for dinner. It 
Avill take some four or five hours to make the beans perfectly 
tender. Half an hour before straining, add a teacupful of 
tomato catsup and half a pint of canned tomatoes or six fresh 
ones. Let it cook a little more briskly for a half-hour, then 
rub through a coarse sieve or colander, and serve hot. In 
preparing stock for this soup, the savory herbs and mush- 
rooms may be omitted, also the tomatoes, as it is better to 
add them just before the beans are done, and strain aU to- 



MORE ABOUT SOUPS. 331 

gether. Some like to sc[ueeze a few drops of lemon-juice 
into soup when in their plates, and it is well to have a 
quarter of a lemon put on a small saucer or cup-plate 
by very one at the table, so that they can add it if agree- 
able. 

An excellent heef soiq) can be made from the bones left 
from a roast. Cut the bones apart, and crack them to pieces 
with a broad hatchet kept for that purpose only, as the good 
husband may object to having his carefully kept hatchet used 
by " women folks," and you may be equally unwilling to 
take articles that have been used you know not for wliat. 
Cover the bones with cold water, and set on the range where 
they will simmer, not boil, between tliree and four hours. 
When the meat is so tender as to slip easily from the bones, 
scrape it all off and set it aside ; put the stock thus made in 
a stone pot and cover closely, after it is cold. We should 
have said in former directions that stock must not be covered 
up till cold, then closed carefully. The next day remove 
every particle of the fat ; warm the stock enough to strain 
it ; cut up one onion (if you and your family like them), two 
or three potatoes, one turnip, a few bits of cauliflower or cab- 
bage, if desired, and two carrots. Put these in the stock, 
adding, if you like, a half-pint of rich stock ; add pepper 
and salt to your liking, half a teacvTpful of tomato catsup, a 
table-spoonful of rice washed clean, or " star " macaroni. 
Boil one hour, and dish without a second straining. Of 
course all these seasonings and vegetables must be varied or 
modified to suit the special tastes of different families. 

The meat cut from the bone may be made into nice 
" force-meat balls," and put into the soup when dished for 
the table. To make these balls, rub the meat smooth in a 
marble mortar. If very dry, moisten with a spoonful of rich 
stock. "\ATien smooth, season with salt, pepper, a little 
thyme, summer savory, and green parsley chopped fine. 



332 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Beat one egg light and stir in, thickening the whole with 
cracker crumbs, enough to roll into small balls the size of a 
large walnut, and fry in boiling lard, or place on a dish and 
bake a clear, even brown, and put into the soup the last 
thing before sending to the table. 

Julienne soup is among those most used at hotels and eating- 
houses. Put half a spoonful of butter into the soup-kettle ; 
slice in two onions, and fry to a clear brown, taking care not 
to scorch them ; then add three quarts of good stock, two 
small turnips and two carrots chopped small. Let this boil 
gently one hour, and then add a pint of green peas, freshly 
gathered, and the same of young and tender string-beans, a 
little mace, salt and pepper as needed, and a single stock of 
celery chopped fine. Too much celery gives a bitter taste to 
soup. Boil two hours more ; then rub a table-spoonful of 
butter, with the same amount of flour, and stir gradually into 
the soup. Boil a few minutes and dish. 

A good vermicelli soup with stock made from a shin of 
veal, boiled in three quarts of water, can be prepared "\vith 
little trouble. The stock must be skimmed carefidly, and, 
this done, put in one whole turnip, one carrot, and one 
onion ; none of these should be cut up. Boil three hours ; 
add salt and pepper to taste, and a quarter of a pound of 
vermicelli after the three hours' boiling, and let it boil gen- 
tly one hour more, then take out the bone and vegetables 
and serve. If the stock boils away too much, add a little 
Avater. 



TESTING CHARACTER. 333 

LXXVIII. 

TESTING CHARACTER. 

NOTHING so completely unmasks all the peculiarities 
of each individual, showing bright and noble traits 
most clearly, and casting deeper shadows on aU that is weak, 
disagreeable, and unlovely, as being shut up in a steamer or in 
cars for days together, acquiring an intimacy in one week far 
more familiar than would have been formed in a year of ordi- 
nary intercourse. Nowhere are selfishness, irritability, and 
vanity so quickly detected ; nowhere are such opportunities to 
manifest patience, self-abnegation, and all sweet and gentle 
qualities, in the most forcible and attractive manner, as in 
this phase of social life. You may call daily, or spend 
weeks with people in their own homes, and never imagine 
that fierce ambition, weak and silly vanity, petty jealousy, 
or a harsh and bitter temper are smoldering where all appears 
so cheerful and quiet, ready to be fanned into flames by the 
first annoyance beyond their power to repel. While no 
shadows fall or clouds obscure their sky, how pleasantly 
the moments pass by ! Smiles and gentleness meet you at 
every step. To secure your comfort and pleasure is their 
delight ; to dispense the hospitality of their homes grace- 
fully and with a free hand does them honor ; to neglect 
to do so would detract from the dignity of their social 
position, and be disgraceful. Every attention and courtesy 
paid to a guest reflects honor on the host, and few are so 
perfect that these considerations do not have some weight. 
This may be assumed without at all detracting from liigher 
motives. 

But become companions on a journey with those who, as 



334 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

host and hostess, have been so attractive, and the most as- 
tonisliing changes, for which you are entirely unprepared, 
utterly foreign to your estimate of their character, may meet 
you in every word and act. Take care, however, while 
watching the mote in your neighbor's eye, that he does not 
discover the beam in your own. In the infelicities of trav- 
eling, remember you are liable to the same criticism, and 
watch and pray lest your own conscience compels you to 
acknowledge the justice of the censure. 

On the other hand, you will often see persons so quiet and 
gentle at home, that wliile you respect, you never think of 
them as presenting any very striking characteristics. Sensi- 
ble and unobtrusive, the goodness, unseen, carries comfort to 
all around, while the recipients seldom recognize the cause of 
the good influence which surrounds them, until some start- 
ling commotion proclaims their silent ministration. The 
freedom born from a common annoyance, discomfort, or dan- 
ger, such as is often experienced in traveling, sometimes 
reveals heroes and heroines where we least expected to find 
them. 

One may read some strange chapters in character if he 
quietly watch a crowd rushing on board a car or steamer, 
eager to secure the best position, where most can be seen 
with the greatest comfort. The rudeness and selfishness of 
each movement and act would be unpardonable in their own 
homes. If you are careful to be on board early, before the 
" rush " begins, it is certainly permissible to secure the best 
seat you can, but with the reservation that old age, feebleness, 
and infancy have a claim on aU, which, if need be, should 
lead you willingly to relinquish the position, however desir- 
able, if by so doing you can add to the comfort of any 
who come to you with these vouchers for their right to 
your assistance and sympathy. Unfortunately, we often 
see this gentle consideration for age and feebleness disre- 



TESTING CHARACTER. 335 

garded ; but when it shines forth how beautiful it is ! How 
it covers little faults and foibles, which, but for such unex- 
pected manifestations, would have much power to vex and 
distress ! 

An elderly lady in feeble health took her seat in the cars, 
homeward bound after a long absence. Being a cold, rainy 
day, it was especially desirable to avoid all draughts from 
open windows. A party of young people in high spirits 
seated themselves in front, and at once opened the Avindow. 
The wind, sleet, and rain rushed in, making all around un- 
comfortable. Several remonstrated, but with no satisfactory 
results. Even the indulgent father gently insinuated that 
they might themselves suffer from such exposure, but not 
a word was spoken of the risk to others. Every other seat 
being occupied, the invalid could make no change ; and feel- 
ing that all the health gained by her absence from home 
might be lost through this severe exposure, with much 
reluctance she mildly requested that the window nearest 
her might be closed. The favor was rudely refused. 

These young people were evidently persons of wealth, 
on their way to travel some time in Europe. From such 
examples, what impressions must the people of the " old 
country " form of the characters and manners of the 
new I The lady, probably reflecting gravely on the habits 
of the young of the present day, sighed for the time when 
age was honored and the young taught to reverence gray 
hairs. 

Time flew by, and again the invalid sought health far 
from home. The boat was crowded with the young and 
gay. Xo wonder she remembered the scene on the cars with 
sad forebodings, the sadder because on a voyage one is liable 
to more discomforts than when traveling by land, and 
probably was prepared to be perfectly isolated, asking for 
and expecting nothing. The passage was disagreeable in the 



336 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

extreme, and all more or less seasick. Of course, under such 
circumstances, it would not have been surj)rising if each was 
disposed to think only of his own discomfort. On the con- 
trary, kindness, respect, and attention were the rule, with 
hardly one excej)tion. Those but slightly sick were prompt 
in ministering to the comfort of the more seriously afflicted. 
Affectionate inquiries, gentle sympathy, and, when needed, 
most tender assistance, filled with bright spots a voyage which, 
but for this blessed spirit, would have been intolerable ; 
making warm and genuine friends for life of those who but a 
few days before were perfect strangers. 

These two experiences prove how unwise it would be to 
form one's estimate of all, in any circumstances, by the freaks 
and folly of a few. How easy to excuse much heedlessness 
and frivolity, hoping for better things with coming years, if 
out from among many youthful follies such good traits are 
made apparent ! 

If this law of unselfish kindness were thoroughly under- 
stood ; if all, particularly the young, could realize the rich 
reward for every kind act, repaying them tenfold even in this 
life, — it would extract many thorns from weary feet, prevent 
much heart-burning, and give a glory to the life below only 
second to that blessed life above, where, when they enter, 
they may hope to hear, " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto 
the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 
" Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the 
joy of thy Lord." 



IF WE KNEW. 337 

LXXIX. 

IF WE KNEW! 

" If we knew the baby fingers 

Pressed against the window-pane 
Would be cold and stiff to-morrow, 

Never trouble us again, 
Would the bright eyes of our darling 

Catch the frown upon our brow i 
Would the pruit of rosy fingers 

Vex us then as they do now ? 

"Ah ! those little, ice-cold fingers. 

How they point our memories back 
To the hasty words and actions 

Strewn along our backward track ! 
How those little hands remind us, 

As in snowy grace they lie, 
Not to scatter thorns, but roses. 

For our reaping by and by ! 

" Strange we never prize the music 

Till the sweet-voiced bird has flown ! 
Strange that we should slight the violets 

Till the lovely flowers are gone ! 
Strange that summer skies and sunshine 

Never seemed one half so fair 
As when winter's snowy pinions 

Shake the white down in the air ! 

" Lips from which the seal of silence 

None but God can roll away. 
Never blossomed in such beauty 

As adorns the mouth to-day ; 
And sweet words that freight our memory 

With their beautiful perfume 
Come to us in sweeter accents 

Through the portals of the tomb ! 

" Let us gather up the sunbeams 
Lying all around our path ; 

15 V 



338 MOTHEKLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Let us keep the wheat and roses, 

Casting out the thorns and chaff ; 
Let us find our sweetest comfort 

In the blessings of to-day ; 
With a patient hand removing 

AU the briers from our way." 

THE wind is playing with the long gray beard on the 
grand old live-oak over our heads ; the air, soft and 
balmy, brings the shghtest intimation of perfume from the 
orange-trees around us ; the golden fruit, half hidden in the 
rich, glossy leaves, and here and there a bud just opening 
into the delicate blossom, give promise of another harvest 
before the first is fully gathered. Before us lies the beautiful 
St. John's river, smooth and tranquil as a summer sea ; but a 
steamer in the distance, like a graceful swan, approaches the 
wharf, and will soon disturb its calm, and toss the placid 
waters into merry ripples or foaming, sparkling waves. Only 
for a moment she touches the wharf, then glides away, and 
the river subsides into its wonted calm. Her coming and 
going have no interest for us, save that which a ghmpse, how- 
ever transient, of beauty, strength, and grace must always 
awaken. She brings none to greet us and claim the welcome, 
so gladly given by one far from home. 

Everything around us is quiet. The inmates of the cottage 
are mostly out sailing. The gentle provider for the house- 
hold comforts, " on hospitable thoughts intent," is preparing 
for their return from this " toil of pleasure," tired and raven- 
ously hungry. We are entirely alone ; and as we sit in this 
wonderful quiet, the little poem quoted above, " If We 
Knew," stirs our heart with strange and solemn power. 

Lives there one who does not, in moments of retirement or 
solitude, look back to the earliest hours of childhood, and re- 
call times when, if he could have known the results, his 
actions would have been far different 1 

If aU could in youth look along the map of life clear to the 



IF WE KNEW. 339 

end, seeing all the breakers and quicksands, which by pa- 
tience and self-control could have been avoided, how much 
more comforting would be the view they might take, in after 
years, of the " backward track " ! No doubt it is well, for 
many reasons, that we cannot read the future. Trials and 
sorrows, which no skill or forethought could have turned 
aside, would have been doubled by anticipation and fore- 
knowledge. And yet we doubt if there are many who, 
looking back from the " half-way house," would not willingly 
endure all the additional pain if they might have possessed 
the power to foresee the inevitable results of certain courses, 
and, profiting by this foreknowledge, have avoided the danger 
or the sin. 

Brother, sister, " if you knew " that soon " those little baby 
fingers " would " never trouble you again," would you be im- 
patient or cross to your little playmates for their childish, 
willful Avays 1 

Two little boys were playing together. Both wanted the 
rocking-chair for a horse. Full of health and animal spirits, 
their dispute ran high, and ended in a blow. Only a few 
days passed, and the baby hands of the younger were folded 
in " snowy grace " upon the cold and quiet heart, and laid in 
the grave. A short time after, hearing bitter sobs in the gar- 
den, the mother found the lonely brother — himself but just 
past babyhood — lying under the peach-trees, watching with 
eager eyes some birds flying over his head, and calling, be- 
tween his sobs : "0 birdies ! little birdies ! Fly up ! fly 
higher ! and tell Jesus if he will only let little brother come 
down to me, he shall have the rocking-chair aU the time, and 
I never, never will strike him again ! O, neve7% never f " 

Ah ! how many brothers and sisters look back upon little 
disputes and sharp, childish quarrels, that would hardly have 
been remembered had both been spared to grow up together ; 
but one having been taken away, that dispute, or the wrong 



340 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

done, remains through life a sore spot in the heart of the sur- 
vivor. 

Father, be not harsh with your son. He disobeyed your 
commands, has done wrong, and for his own good deserves 
rebuke ; but remember he is " oidy a httle one." Let your 
censure be tempered with gentleness. It was but the over- 
flow of exuberant life, not willful disobedience. If you 
could look forward to what soon may be, how leniently would 
you judge, how tenderly chide, and by your gentleness secure 
obedience much more effectually ! 

Ah, poor, tired mother ! you are very weary and wellnigh 
sick. Your eyes are heavy for want of sleep, and your head 
throbbing with the noise and shouts and wild frolics of your 
little ones. It is often very hard to bear ; but it is health 
and strength and life overflowing in their yet untried, undis- 
ciplined hearts. Be patient ! If soon, with hot and tearless 
eyes, you watch by the little crib where fever may conquer 
that life but late so joyous and full of activity, can you en- 
dure what God may see best to bring upon you, if, by impa- 
tience, you have "scattered thorns, not roses, for your 
reaping by and by " 1 

" I have asked you twenty times to mend this coat, and it 
is not done yet. ' ISTo time' ! How long would it have taken, 
I should like to know ] But — well — I can go ragged, I 
suppose. You give little heed to my wishes or comfort. You 
must take your own time and way, without regard to my con- 
venience, or you win not be satisfied." 

Husband ! why do you say such ugly, biting things 1 You 
love your wife. You would be indignant if a looker-on should 
hint that you misjudged her or were exacting. Your heart 
— or that silent monitor, your conscience — tells you that 
she did not intend to disregard your wishes or advice. She 
was tired, overtaxed with many cares and frequent interrup- 
tions, or perhaps sickness is creeping upon her unawares. 



IF WE KNEW. 341 

Whatever the reason, the offense was but a " little thing." 
Or even if she was self-willed or irritable, be patient with 
her. You are fully aware that one mode of speaking makes 
her indignant, and stirs up all the offensive, opposing elements 
in her character ; while, on the contrary, a certain tone of 
your voice, a love-look from your eye, would have brought 
her to your side in an instant, sorry, self-upbraiding, loving 
and honoring you with all her heart. Ah, " if you knew " ! 
These hi'st morose, fault-finding words are, perhaps, " leaving 
on her heart a shadow, leaving on your heart a stain," which 
may be the beginning of coldness, mistrust, and defiance, or 
perhaps a darker sin, when but for them you could have se- 
cured joy and gladness in your house, growing sweeter and 
purer day by day. Deal gently. You, her husband, can 
make her happy, loving, and good, or you can make her irri- 
table, unloving, and evil, thereby destroying your own happi- 
ness as well as hers. You are the house-bond or home-hand. 
See that you sever it not by your own folly. 

" John, why do you always ^vait, and wait, and hinder me 
so ? You can come at once, just as well as to keep me wait- 
ing, if you only choose to ! " 

Wife, it is just such little, impatient, waspish words that 
will tempt your husband to seek quiet, comfort, and appreci- 
ation away from your side. No matter if he does " speak just 
as impatiently as you have done, fifty times a day," show him 
a better way. Why retort, or increase the "little shadows," 
which you can by gentleness dispel % Yield a little ; it is not 
hard, and you will reap a glorious reward. Is not your hus- 
band's love and confidence worth keeping, by the exercise of 
a little patience and forbearance 1 But if not for present joy, 
to ward off future misery at least, "set a guard over the door 
of your mouth, that you sin not with your lips"; and so tread 
life's pathway with him to whom you have vowed a wife's 
fealty that, if called to sit in the desolation of widowhood, 



342 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

there shall not be added to that sorrow the anguish of seK- 
iipbraiding for little services impatiently rendered, or love 
requited by coldness or irritability. 

When we have passed through aU the labors and trials of 
early life, and in fuU maturity or just on the decline pause 
a moment to recall the friends of our youth now gone, and 
the sweet family ties now broken, how the heart aches with 
the memory of hasty words or actions, and vainly yearns for 
one more opportunity for the better performance of our whole 
duty, in all love, fidelity, and patience ! But 

" God .... pity us all 
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall ; 
For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
The saddest are these : It might have been I " 



LXXX. 

IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT. 

~TT'"/^HE]Sr a young girl is called by the death of her 
VV mother to assume the management of the family 
before her home education has been completed, we know of 
very few cases which draw so largely on our sympathy. 
Grief and depression for the loss of a mother is hard enough 
for the young heart to endure ; and added to this, it is no 
easy thing to accept the responsibility of providing for the 
comforts of those thus thrown upon her care. All the 
economical arrangements of the household, the oversight of 
cooking, even when the labor is done by the hands of a 
servant ; the daily watchings to prevent miscalcidations in 
marketing ; the neatness and regularity to be secured in 
every department, — may seem light to an experienced matron, 



IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT. 343 

but aro heavy burdens to be laid upon a slight young girl. 
Yet all this is but a drop, compared with the thought and 
anxiety she must feel in administering to the health and 
happiness of her father and of the children, even younger than 
herself, who will now turn to her for the care once so effi- 
ciently and promptly given by the mother. And most likely, 
until trials came to her, the daughter had never had cares 
or duties that demanded the exercise of her independent 
judgment, — her mother being always near to direct and 
decide. 

A daughter may be ever so thoroughly instructed in all 
womanly employments, yet if her mother retains the entire 
charge of every portion of the household labor, — the child 
simply following as she is bid, — there can be little opjjor- 
tunity for the development and exercise of her individual 
judgment. She naturally prefers to lean on one ever ready 
to relieve her from distasteful duties. This is, no doubt, 
pleasant for both, — the mother is happy in shielding, the 
child happy in freedom from care. But we doubt if it is 
wise or right, for often " in such an hour as ye think 
not " all this must be changed. Frequently, without a mo- 
ment's warning or time for preparation, the mother is taken 
from her family. Ought she not to have furnished her child, 
by her teachings, with that experience which, like a lamp 
trimmed and burning, would guide her footsteps, enabling 
her, Avhen this unlooked-for trial came, to assume these re- 
sponsibilities with comparative ease 1 "We believe that even 
at an early age it is best that some particular duty should be 
committed to the care of every child, thus teaching them 
self-reliance from the beginning of life, and accustoming even 
the little ones to feel responsible for a certain amount of 
daily labor. Of course, the mother will quietly watch that 
these small duties are properly performed, but not openly, 
so that her child loses the sense of real accountability, by 



344 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

knowing that " mother Avill see that it is all right, even if I 
should neglect or make mistakes." The mother TOdust j^oint 
out mistakes, but the child should always be made to rectify 
them. The knowledge that doing work hastily or carelessly 
will only be the cause of punishment by compelling her to 
do the work over and over again, until it is right, is a great 
safeguard against contracting careless habits. Lessons thus 
enforced do not often need repeating. 

Little by little, as the child grows toward womanhood, 
let the mother throw off some portion of her cares, teaching 
her daughters to oversee or perform them correctly, and by 
so doing not only lighten her own labors, but make such 
duties easy for her children in after-years, or if they should be 
called prematurely to the entire charge. When daughters 
are old enough to become their mother's companions, they 
should also become joint partners in home and household 
responsibilities. When out of school, divide the work so 
that every other week the mother shall be entirely free from 
all care, — a guest in the family ; or if that is at first too 
great a tax on the young partner, " take turns " in dividing 
the work, — the daughter one week having the charge of the 
cooking, marketing, and arranging for each meal entirely 
herself; the next week, of the dairy, if on a farm, or the 
laundry or chamber work. When each week is ended, the 
mother can point out the failures, or recommend a better or 
easier way of doing some particular thing ; but urdess advice or 
directions are asked, it is far better that the young housekeeper 
should be left to her own skill and judgment. For a few 
times this may not prove the best economy, but in the end 
" it pays," and with good interest. Of course, before this 
plan can be carried into execution, to any extent, the young 
lady has served an apprenticeship, so far as to know, herself, 
that part of the work Avhich comes under her jurisdiction 
each week ; and when practice shall have made perfect, and 



IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT. 345 

the term of apprenticeship expires, it is excellent discipline 
for a daughter to assume the reins entirely, for a shorter or 
longer time, as health or pleasure may determine, subject to 
such suggestions as may be deemed advisable. This arrange- 
ment gives rest and liberty, if all her children are grown up, 
for the mother to read, travel, or enjoy social life ; as she 
could not do when they were young and needing the mother's 
care, — which should never be delegated to another, unless 
compelled by ill health. This is a most valuable training, 
by which the young housekeeper is prepared for a useful life, 
or a happy home of her own some day. 

We cannot but feel that of late years too large a propor- 
tion of care and thought is bestowed by parents in educating 
their daughters to shine in fashionable life, — in giving tliem 
an ornamental rather than a solid, practical, or intellectual 
education. They dislike to keep their children at close study, 
lest they should spoil their figures or their eyes, and allow 
them to discard housework for fear their hands will not be 
small and delicate enough to show to advantage at the piano, 
or in a party. Music, painting, and dancing are all well 
enough in their way, — some of them very important, — but 
should not be sought after to the exclusion of the practical, 
and by no means the least important part of a young girl's 
education, and preparation for an active, useful life. Many 
young ladies will not willingly accept these views ; but it is 
for the most part because mothers, out of mistaken fondness, 
do not care to have them ; or, as is too often the case, be- 
cause they do not like the drudgery, as they term it, of 
teaching the lessons in domestic economy, so necessary to 
their future welfare, — an indolent or selfish mode of setting 
aside heaven-ordained duties, for which a severe reckoning 
may one day be demanded. 



15* 



34G MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

LXXXI. 

GRUMBLING. 

IT must be that a certain class of people find pleasure in 
fault-finding and grumbling, or they would not search so 
industriously for an opportunity to exercise their talents in 
this direction ; or, failing to secure a legitunate occasion, 
willfully manufacture one. In the family, this habit is, un- 
fortunately, often carried to a great extent, even among those 
who are, undoubtedly, sincerely attached to each other. The 
first word in the morning is usually a querulous inquiry or 
complaint about some trivial thing which they merely sus- 
pect has been neglected or unsatisfactorily performed. They 
do not take the trouble to inquire if their suspicious are well 
founded. Such inquiry might deprive them of the luxury 
of grumbling. If it were not so sad to hear the early morn- 
ing hours thus desecrated, it might furnish much amusement 
for a " looker on " to notice how often these unfortunates are 
caught in their own trap, and the fact made evident to all 
that the foolish words were but the ebullition of arrogance 
and irritability, having no foundation. 

" My dear ! " (you "will notice that a gentleman grumbler 
begins a complaint with a strongly emphasized teriu of en- 
dearment,) — " my dear ! why could you not heed my re- 
quest that our breakfast might be one half -hour later this 
morning 1 I told you I was very tired, and needed a little 
more rest. But it is useless for me to imagine you would 
deviate from your rules one minute just for my comfort." 

" Why, Tom ! how unreasonable you are ! You are so 
in the habit of finding fault, that you never stop to learn 
certainly if there is any cause for dissatisfaction. Your 



GRUMBLING. 347 

hi'cakfast is just three quarters of an hour later than usual. 
I delayed it just as long as I could, expressly for your com- 
fort." 

" I said half an hour, not three quarters. That was every 
minute I could spare. Xow, I shall be too late for some 
very important business. Eut you are always interfering, as 
if I ditl n't understand my own business best ! " 

Eut when the grumbler has had a good cup of coffee or 
tea, and the " inner man " is suitably refreshed by an 
abundant breakfast, he seems to be in no great haste to at- 
tend to that important business ; but has leisure to look over 
the papers, play a moment with the children, and can really 
speak gently to the one so rudely censiu-ed in the morning, 
before his appetite was appeased. 

" Now, I call this real cruel, John. I must go to market 
right off after breakfast, because you foi'got to bring home 
the marketing last night. And I asked you so particularly ; 
as we have company to dinner, I have hardly time to get 
ready. But I might have known if I wanted anything in 
season, tired or sick, I must always do it myself. It is 
really too bad ! " 

" My dear ! if I might slip in a word, I would like to 
inform you that I did bring home the marketing according 
to orders, and gave it to the cook. You will doubtless find 
it in the store-closet." 

" John ! that 's just like you. Why could n't you 
have told me last night 1 It would n't have hurt you to 
have taken that trouble, I 'm sure." 

" You had company, you recollect, when I came home. I 
had an errand to do after tea, and you were fast asleep when 
I returned. What chance had I to tell you ? " 

" You could n't have told me quietly, even if we had com- 
pany, I suppose 1 " 

" Why, child ! how eager you are to find fault ! " 



348 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

" 0, yes ! of course I am the only one to tlame." 

It is not necessary to multiply examples, though, we 'are 
sorry to say, they could be brought from every class and po- 
sition. But such things are not pleasant to hear, and cer- 
tainly do not look well on paper. It is to be feared that we 
all have some germs of this same malady, — enough, at least, 
to understand the symptoms, and warn us to vigorous efforts 
to eradicate them. If allowed to take root, they deface our 
own characters, and disturb, if not destroy, the comfort of 
home. When parents indulge in this sin of grumbling, 
they cannot wonder if their children follow their example, 
and even go beyond it. A whole family of grumblers ! 
what can be more wretched 1 

Another class, whose beha\ior at home is unexceptionable, 
spare their families, reserving their grumbling for business 
hours, giving their servants or clerks the discomfort that the 
first class lay by for home consumption. There is hope for 
those. By and by some high-spirited sufferer from their 
waspishness and fault-finding, having endured their weari- 
some grumbling till patience is no longer a virtue, may teach 
them a lesson, through their self-interest, that Avill perhaps 
prove effectual. 

But we have a few words to say of another class, — 
grumbling travelers. At some of our hotel tables, Avhere 
travelers " most do congregate," one can read a chapter of 
absurd and ridiculous weakness to be found nowhere else. 
"VVe have known people to sit down to a table where we 
could find no occasion for complaint, and grumble loudly at 
every individual article. Coffee, " horrid " ; tea, " an insult 
to set such stuff before any one " ; soup, " too thick," or 
" too thin " ; and so on through the whole bill of fare. 
Nothing set before them that was not made a subject of 
criticism or rude comparison between the hotel fare and the 
wonderful perfections of their own table. This habit of 



GRUMBLING. 349 

fault-finding is, by a certain class, considered a certificate of 
superiority which cannot fail to convince the public that 
they are persons of wealth and high-standing at home. A 
mistaken idea. Even the waiters at public tables, who, in 
consequence of the variety of guests to whom they are 
called, are usually good judges of character, are not deceived 
by this vain pretense ; but many sly glances, that can only 
be inter])reted as contemptvious, may be detected ; and as 
these complainers leave the table, the -waiters whisper to 
each other, as they pass to and fro, *' Shoddy," with looks 
that cannot be misunderstood. 

This class of travelers leave their homes, not for informa- 
tion and improvement, but for the opportunity of grumbling, 
on a new and more extensive scale than can be attained in 
their own families. They leave home in search of some yet 
untried cause for grumbling, and by a long stretch of con- 
science and imagination they contrive to find it, and return 
with a large store of freshly gathered material, over which to 
expatiate for some weeks, quite to the relief of their families. 

All this kind of grumbling appears to us most unreason- 
able and ridicidous ; but if not inclined to find fault in any 
of the ways mentioned, we are beginning to fear that every 
one meets some point in life where he imagines dissatisfac- 
tion and complaint to be perfectly justifiable. Something in 
their surroundings is out of joint. Their most carefully laid 
plans and well-grounded expectations fail ; friends grow 
cold ; where lies the fault ? Is none of it with joii 1 The 
foundations of our worldly prosperity seem built on solid 
rock, but they slide from under lis. We take to our hearts 
one dearer than our own life, and in an hour when we think 
not the bond is severed. Time and again the cradle is left 
empty ; or a sweet and loving spirit emerges from it, and step 
by step grows toward dear companionship, when, as in a 
moment, God calls, and we are left in sackcloth and ashes. 



350 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

We murmur and repine, — God's dealings appear so unequal- 
ly distributed. In the same vicinity one family grows up 
unbroken, from babyhood into vigorous manhood, while 
another home is left desolate, and they cry out in their 
anguish, " I do well .to be angry." They forget that God 
deals with his children as they deal with the rich but un- 
cultivated lands committed to their care. What is more 
beautiful to the eye than a large grove of wild orange- 
trees 1 — but how useless if left unimproved ! Who com- 
plains when their beauty, for the present, is destroyed, the 
trees cut back and pruned till they stand bare and unsight- 
ly 1 But the buds and grafts which have been introduced 
will soon start into new life, the branches begin to shoot up- 
ward, and the sweet, pure blossoms and golden fruit will 
clothe the tree, which a grumbler would have thought 
wholly destroyed, with new beauty. The old beauty was 
defaced only that the tree should, in the end, become fruit- 
ful, and thereby more gloriously perfect than at first. 

Yet we murmur when our wild orange groves are cut 
back, pruned, and grafted, and the " seedlings " from our 
nurseries transplanted. We forget that 

" Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
Stand dressed in living green," 

which are made more gloriously beautiful by every rare and 
precious plant that our Father transplants from this beauti- 
ful but stormy earth to his garden, 

" Where everlasting spring abides, 
And never withering; flowers." 



LITTLE FOXES SPOILING THE BELOVED VINE. 351 

LXXXII. 
LITTLE FOXES SPOILING THE BELOVED VINE. 

" A MOTHER " desires to know if she fails in disci- 
-/_JL pline, or if her children are more troublesome and 
difficult to manage than other people's. She has coaxed, 
reasoned, whipped ; shut up in solitude, fed them on bread 
and water, or confined them in a dark room ; but all appears 
to be ineifectual. They do nothing really ivicked, in the 
strict sense of that term ; but they forget or disregard all 
rules or commands, are mischievous and careless ; boisterous 
and full of frolic one day, to the neglect of every duty, and 
the next, quarrelsome, irritable, and in every respect uncer- 
tain. This mother feels her responsibility deeply, and with 
all her heart desires to bring her children up in the right 
way, but is more and more conscious that she fails in her 
efforts, and now feels disheartened and discouraged. 

"VVe judge the great trouble here is over-anxiety. Her 
children are governed too viuch. It is not easy to lead young, 
conscientious mothers to see this ; but the grandmothers, 
profiting by their own mistakes, see in these boisterous, care- 
less, impressible children that which, if not too closely 
pruned, will mature into strong, healthy men and women ; 
and in their irritability and disobedience they recognize the 
effect of over-restraint, and too great repression of youthful, 
exuberant, animal spirit, which, if slightly modified and 
gently led, will be an invaluable assistance to these little 
ones in after-life, giving them strength and force of character 
to act well their part when they enter in earnest on their 
life's work. No doubt quiet, demure, proper children would 
be the most desirable, just for the present comfort of moth- 



352 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

ers or friends. Overtasked bodies and aching heads find 
such children less troublesome. But it is not for present 
ease that good mothers live. They look for their reward 
in the future usefulness of their chilcben, and " for the joy- 
that is set before them " they endure the cross like good sol- 
diers. 

Yet while striving, in all patience, self-sacrifice, and love, 
to make your children happy in the formatory state, and at 
the same time teach them better ways, you must also be on 
the watch for the foes without and the foes within, — the 
" little foxes " that seek to destroy 

'* The beloved vine 
Trusted to your tending 
By the One Divine." 

In no case be easy and lenient to that which is sin, — not 
merely childish sport or thoughtlessness. Eoot up the small- 
est germ from which mean, low, or wicked habits will spring, 
with a kind but uncompromising firmness. You cannot 
guard your charge too closely here ; but be most scrupulous- 
ly careful that you are not overhasty in judging of the char- 
acter of their faults, but have rightfully distinguished be- 
tween deliberate, intentional wrong-doing and childish folly. 
Let your children feel that for the first you accept no excuse ; 
for the latter you are lenient, full of loving-kindness and 
tender mercy. For disobedience that springs from stubborn- 
ness and a willful determination to do that which is forbid- 
den at all hazards, be not cruel and harsh, but firm, and so 
severe that the child will have no doubt of your resolution to 
destroy the evil by meeting each act with quick retribution. 
Yet when compelled to punish, be so careful of your own 
heart that your erring one cannot but see that you are severe 
from no one emotion of anger, or because you are made un- 
comfortable, but because God has committed them to your 
care, and will demand a strict account of your stewardship. 



LITTLE FOXES SPOILING THE BELOVED VINE. 353 

r>c sure, in your dealings with your children, that they have no 
difficulty in seeing that you recognize a wide difference be- 
tween overt sins and wrong done through childish thought- 
lessness and ignorance ; and while you gently point out the 
inconvenience and mischief apparent in consequence of their 
careless act-s, seek to make it plain to them that you restrain 
because you do not like them to seek their sports and amuse- 
ments selfishly, and at the expense of others' comfort. Be- 
fore you decide that any act of your children is really sinful 
and deserving punishment, examine and hear all that can be 
said in excuse or palliation. 

Then as to the mode of punishment, when it really be- 
comes necessary, we think the parents' judgment ought to be 
the surest guide, as they should better understand the char- 
acters they have to deal with. Some children, when they 
find that punisliment is sure to follow wrong-doing, submit 
easily ; others are resolute or defiant, and these traits should 
decide the nature of such infliction as the parent finds una- 
voidable. There are times with certain children when we 
think a sound whipping the most curative process ; while to 
others it would be so humiliating as to irreparably injure 
the child's character ; but a whipping is not needed once, 
where some young, inexperienced, but conscientious parents 
employ it twenty times. Where it must be resorted to, let 
it be sufficiently severe to make a repetition a thing to be 
dreaded ; but, if brutal, it is simply barbarity, not justice. 

Never, under any circumstances, strike a child on the 
head or box the ears. That is the act of anger, and in 
general is practiced only when the judgment is overruled 
by passion. Do not attempt to turn a child from the 
" error of his ways " by any such heathenish means. No 
one can judge at the time of the force of a blow dealt in 
anger ; and though done thoughtlessly, in a moment of 
irritation, it may bring life-long suffering and sorrow. So, 

w 



354 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

shutting up a child in a dark room, though it may not 
appear at the time so barbarous, has often resulted in the 
most painful, if not fatal injuries. Neither do we approve 
of attempting to convert a child through its appetite ; a 
dark room, a cup of water, and a crust of bread savors too 
much of the inquisition or the convict's cell for Christian 
parents to imitate. 

After all, each one must be a law unto himself. Another 
cannot give special rules for any one ; but there is one thing 
that it may be well for every parent to bear in mind always, 
namely, that probably a large proportion of the evil we find 
in our children is but the continuation or increase of oxir own 
faults, unheeded while they were onr own. And this should 
teach us great caution, great love and gentleness in govern- 
ing our little imitators. Mrs. Mary Crann, some years ago, 
published some pretty verses on " The Little Foxes," which 
spoil our i' beloved vines." They are very touching, be- 
cause so true, and mothers cannot fail to read them with 
deep feeling, and with full hearts thank the author who 
in these lines gives utterance to the sorrow and self-condem- 
nation which so often oppress them, when their own faults 
and failings look at them through their little ones. We 
think we cannot do better than to finish by giving our 
readers the whole poem : — 

" Little foxes, spoiling 

The beloved vine 
Trusted to my tending 

By the One Divine. 
Little foxes, wherefore 

Have ye entrance found 
To the vine so precious 

Growing in my gromid ? 

" Have ye leaped the fences ? 
Have ye climbed the wall ? 
Were there tiny openings ? 
Ye are very small. 



LITTLE FOXES SPOILING THE BELOVED VINE. 355 

And ye can creep slyly 

Througli a tiny space; 
But I thought I closed up 

Every open place. 

"And I watched by daytime, 

And I watclied by night, 
For the vine you 're spoiling 

Is my heart's delight ! 
I have kept the earth-worm 

From its precious root; 
I have trimmed its branches, 

But they bear no fruit. 

" For the little foxes 

Have assailed the vine. 
Trusted to my tending 

By the One Divine ; 
And though I 've been faithful 

Since its birthday morn, 
They were in the garden 

When the babe was born. 

" For they are the failings 

That I would not see 
Wlien they were my failings, 

When they dwelt in me; 
Little faults unheeded, 

That I now despise ; 
For my baby took them 

With my hair and eyes. 

" And I chide her often, 

For I know I must. 
But I do it always 

Bowed down to the dust. 
With a face all crimsoned 

With a burning blush. 
And an inward whisper 

That I cannot hush. 

" And sometimes it seemeth 
Like the voice of God, 
And it says, ' Poor coward, 
Using now the rod 



35 G MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

On a child's frail body. 

Till I hear it moan, 
And see its soft flesh quiver 

For a sin thine own.' 

" my Father, pity, 

Pity and forgive; 
Slay the little foxes 

I allowed to live 
Till they left the larger 

For the smaller vine, 
Till they touched the dear life, 

Dearer far than mine. 

" my Father, hear me. 

Make my darling thine, 
Though I am so human. 

Make her all divine ! 
Slay the little foxes, 

That both vines may be 
Laden with fruit worthy 

To be ofi'ered thee ! " 



LXXXIII. 

WASTE NOT — WANT NOT. 

MANY, particularly among the young, associate economy 
and frugality with, meanness, ungenerousness, and a 
churlish, disobliging disposition. 

" There would be no pleasure or comfort in living," said a 
young lady, when a friend was endeavoring to show her the 
desirableness of " counting cost," before entering upon any 
extravagant expenditures, — "there woidd be no comfort in 
living, if I must stop and consider the price, — adding up at 
every step, and dehberating upon the sum total before I 
dared to make a purchase ; to say every minute, ' Can I afford 



WASTE NOT — WANT NOT. 357 

tliis V ov, ' Can I manage to do without that '] ' To compel 
myself to study how I could alter over an old garment, how 
to change the trimmings so as to hide such piecing as must 
be done, before I could bring the article into usable shape, 
and at the same time preserve a genteel appearance ; to pick 
up pins and needles, buttons and strings, keeping before my 
mind all the time the idea of economy and saving, in every- 
thing, small as well as great ! Pshaw ! I should feel so mean. 
I should despise myself, and tliink all my acquaintances 
would despise me also. I 'd sooner spend what I have in a 
free-and-easy manner, taking what pleasure I could in it, as 
long as it lasted, and, when all was gone, go to the poorhouse 
or die ! I do really think so." 

A change of cars took them away, and we do not know 
what reply was made to this speech ; but from it we thought 
one could, without uncharitableness, form a pretty correct 
estimate of the speaker's character and probable future. She 
may not end in the poorhouse, though that would not be the 
most unlikely thing that could happen ; but if she marries, 
the heart of her husband cannot safely trust in her, and her 
children will not rise up and call her blessed. Waste and 
extravagance go hand in hand, and happiness and comfort 
do not walk with them. Those whom they beguile become 
selfish, seeking their own gratification, regardless of the in- 
terests of others. 

It is possible that parents often err in their mode of incul- 
cating economy, and, while striving to enforce its practice, 
render the whole subject, and every idea connected with it, 
distasteful by overmuch teacliing. However that may be, 
for some reason the young ai)pear to look upon it as some- 
thing to be shunned, feeling that they would " lose caste," 
if they even spoke of it, and to attempt to practice it would 
shut them out from certain acquaintances as something quite 
inferior. So, if compelled to economize, they do it secretly, 



358 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

while they think of it as an evil to be deplored. All their 
little devices to " keep up appearances," and bring their sur- 
roundings into harmony with their more wealthy neighbors, 
they shrink from having known, as from real disgrace or 
guilt; whereas the ingenuity displayed is something often 
worthy of much praise, if used openly, without regard to 
foolish criticisms. Those who have the gift to practice a 
judicious economy, to save carefully, because it is right, and 
not from a niggardly, miserly desire to hoard, — in household 
affairs, in dress, or in anything that comes under their care, 
— are endowed with a talent for which they may well be 
proud, and which is recognized by all sensible people as most 
desirable, even by those who are placed in circumstances 
where the closest watchfulness and care may not be a 
necessity. 

But it is not merely as matter of necessity that we wish to 
direct the attention of all good housekeepers to the duty of 
thrift and carefulness in the management of their affairs. 
We do not think the poor, or those merely in moderate cir- 
cumstances, should be allowed to monopolize all the pleas- 
ure which, if rightly viewed, can be secured by a frugal 
use and proper economy of the good things of this world 
that may be placed at our disposal. The rich have an 
equal right with the poor to share in this pleasure. A proper 
education, presenting this subject in the true hglit, will show 
conclusively that the more abundant the riches, the greater 
will be the satisfaction derived from proper discretion and 
judgment in the use and distribution of them. The good 
one can do, the large amount of personal happiness to be 
secured by the good done, would be sufficient motives, even 
if there were no higher, for strict watchfulness against waste, 
even in the smallest item. If one has the means, and recog- 
nizes the greater convenience of making purchases in large 
quantities, there is no degradation in doing it hecmise it is 



WASTE NOT — WANT NOT. 359 

also the better economy. But because they have bought 
by the wholesale, and filled their storerooms with large and 
generous supplies, they must not feel that they have nothing 
to do but fold their hands and allow others to scatter their 
stores recklessly and without judgment. Making the pur- 
chases and seeing them carefully put in place is by no means 
the end of their duty. They are but stewards of God's 
bounties, and a steward may not relax his care. If a lady 
can afford to keej) a housekeeper, and is willing to submit to 
the rule and tyranny of one, rather than burden herself with 
the entire charge of a house, we can only say, " There is no 
accounting for tastes," and will not presume to doubt her 
right to do so ; but even then, after having thrown off tlie 
supervision of the household, and all the details connected 
with its care, we believe every one should still retain suffi- 
cient responsibility to be sure that the housekeeper is faith- 
ful, capable, and willing at all times to render a satisfac- 
tory account of her stewardship ; and the mistress should 
be able to know, also, by these accounts, if she is true to 
her trust. If this was generally understood to be the rule 
with aU, there woidd be less unfaithful stewardship, less 
defalcation in the household certainly, if not everywhere 
else. 

But the injury done to subordinates by extravagance is 
one of the worst features of this evil. Our servants are quick 
imitators, and if the mistress is easy and careless in her ex- 
penditures, the maid soon learns to follow her example, and 
so will waste the material put into her hands. It does not 
take long to teach one of the improvident class, from whicli 
our servants usually come, a lesson which not only leads her 
to be careless of the property of others, even when she has 
no thought or intention of being dishonest, but Avholly unfits 
her for saving her own earnings or managing a home of her 
own. Hence we see all around us those who have lived in 



360 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

wealthy families marrying, with no knowledge of providing 
for a family, or of using the little they have with economy. 
So they sink down, year after year, into deeper poverty and 
wretchedness ; ending, perhaps, in the poorhouse ; when if the 
lessons learned in their employer's house had been those of 
true economy, they luiglit now be living in neat and com- 
fortable homes. 



LXXXIV. 

MAKING CAKE AND PASTRY. 

ONE of our young friends, speaking of her troubles, 
says : — 

" I must have cake in the house, but shrink from the at- 
tempt to make it; and in my brief experience in housekeeping 
have, so far, depended on the bake-shops ; for I know notliing 
about such work, and won't let my girl see me trying it, lest 
she find out what a novice her mistress is. If I should put 
all the materials for my cake together, in tlie most careful 
manner, and when it is taken from the oven find that it was 
not good, / should not know if the failure arose from my 
want of skill in preparing it, or from my girl's carelessness in 
baking it ; but she would doubtless know whose the fault Avas, 
and I am dreadfully afraid it would prove to have been my 
own, I don't understand much about cooking, and still less, 
I fear, how to judge of the quality of the materials I must 
use in cooking." 

In the first place, bear in mind always, in purchasing, that 
it is cheaper in the end to buy the best, and in no one article 
is this so manifest as in flour. Get the best in market, even 
if you pay an extra price, and notice the brand. Try the 
flour faithfully, and if it proves satisfactory, " make a note 



MAKING CAKE AND PASTRY. 361 

of it," and continue to furnish yourself with that kind, 
unless, after a few times, you find it deteriorates. 

Good flour will adhere, slightly pressed together in the 
hand ; and when you unclasp your hand, the lines in the palm 
will be plainly seen on the flour you have held so tightly. 
Dough from good flour will not be a clear, blue white, but 
yellowish, and, when well kneaded, will not stick to the 
hand. 

We should have said, in the first place, by inquiries and 
observation secure a good, honest, rehable grocer, — one who 
will triily endeavor to serve you with the best ; having satis- 
fied yourself that you can trust him, you Avill find his judg- 
ment will assist you out of many uncertainties, until you have, 
by experience, learned to trust your own. 

The same rule for buying holds good of all groceries. Biiy 
the best. You will save money and insure comfort by it. 
There is no more economy in buying cheap sugar than cheap 
flour. A barrel of pure, clear, granulated sugar will last 
longer, and in the end be cheaper, than any of the cofiee or 
brown sugars. 

Before collecting your materials for making cake or pies, 
see that your stove or range is in good order; the grate 
shaken free from ashes ; all the fuel needed for the cook- 
ing added and burning clear. Be careful that no doors or 
windows are opened, so that the air will blow across the 
stove. No oven can bake well if this is not prevented, 
or if the sun shines across it. "We all know that if this 
happens, the coal will soon look whitish, instead of burning 
clear and lively. 

Having the fire and oven in a proper condition, you can 
now prepare for making bread, cake, or pastry. Of course 
you wiU have a large, clean apron, and fold, not push, your 
sleeves back above the elbow. A sack apron, with high neck 
and short sleeves, made long and fidl enough to cover the 
16 



3G2 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

dress, is a great convenience, for if suddenly called from your 
work you can throw it otf easily, leaving your dress in a neat, 
presentable condition. A close net cap drawn over the head 
will prevent loose hairs falling into your work, and should be 
more used than is common. A basin of water and a clean 
towel close by are necessary, so that you need not be obliged 
to stop in the midst of your work to get it in case of any mis- 
hap. Put everything you will need on the table. Be sure that 
all utensils are always put away clean, so that, when they are 
next wanted, you will not be hindered to do more than wipe 
them free from the dust which may have gathered upon them. 
Scrupulous neatness about all your cooking-utensils should 
never be forgotten. If iron, tin, wood, or earthen vessels are 
set aside without being scrubbed perfectly clean and wiped 
dry, you will waste much time when next they are needed, 
aside from risking a moldy or rusty taste in your food. 

A good- sized bread or molding board, white and clean, 
perfectly dry and smooth, should be placed on the table. 
It keeps the flour, sugar, etc. that may fall, from the table, 
and is readily lifted, with all the soiled dishes on it, to 
the sink for washing, — thus saving much litter and many 
steps. Learn to cook without gathering a large number of 
things about ; after a little practice, you wiU be surprised to 
see how few things are really needed, and how much confu- 
sion and how many steps can be avoided by a little manage- 
ment. 

In making cake, dry and sift the flour, roll the sugar, if at 
aU lumpy (granulated sugar will not lump), and put it in 
separate bowls or pans. Wash the butter, for cake or pastry, 
and put it into ice- water; weigh or measure the sugar 
and milk needed. Eaisins should be stoned, the citron cut 
in thin slices, and currants washed and picked over, covered 
closely, and put away in a cool place the night before they 
are needed. 



MAKING CAKE AND PASTRY. 3G3 

These materials all collected, butter the pans. Ii' for cake, 
line them witli clean white paper, well buttered. Use butter, 
instead of lard or cMppings, as they may give an unpleasant 
taste to the under crust. Cake baked in butter-lined pans 
does not burn so readily on the bottom, K the cake does not 
require long baking, unbuttered paper will answer, as it Avill 
peel off readily when the cake is cool. Have some clean 
paper at hand to cover the top of the cake, if it begins to 
scorch. 

The white paper used to print our newspapers on is as good 
for buttering and lining eake-j^ans as the more expensive 
letter-paper, and is also very nice to cover shelves Avith, or lay 
in the bottoms of drawers. Two or three dozen sheets will 
last a good while, be of little expense, and very convenient 
for many purposes. 

Eggs that are to be used in cake should be put into cold 
water in summer, while you are making your preparations, 
until ready to use tliem. Then break each one separately into 
a cup, to see if it is good ; but by breaking all into the dish 
you beat them in, you risk ruining the whole by one bad egg. 
If good, turn it into the dish, and proceed the same way with 
the others. Have your nutmegs grated, and all other spices 
ready. 

These preliminaries attended to, (and it takes but a few 
minutes to have all in readiness when you have done it rightly 
and methodically,) begin to put the materials together. First 
beat the butter and sugar together, till white and creamj^ ; 
then beat the eggs, — the yelks and whites separately always, 
as whites requu-e longer beating than yelks. Strain the yelks 
after beating, and add to them well-beaten butter and sugar ; 
then the spices ; stir in the flour gradually, before using the 
sweet or sour milk needed. If you use soda and cream of 
tartar, the latter should be sifted with the flour, and the soda, 
dissolved in cool milk or water, — never in hot water, — should 



3G4 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

be ■added after the milk. If pre2oared flour is used, no soda 
or cream of tartar can be put in at all. Beat the batter very 
light, flour the currants and raisins and stir in ; then add the 
whites, beaten stiff, the last thing. After they are added, the 
batter must not be beaten hard, — only enough to have it 
thoroughly incorporated with the dough. In beating the 
whites, do not stop after you begin till quite stiff, else they 
will " go back," and then they will not come up light again. 

In raised cake, put in the fruit, rolled in flour, just before 
you put the cake into the oven. Spread it over the top lightly, 
and press it in but a little way, else it will aU sink to the 
bottom and be worthless. 

Only practice and watchfulness can teach you how to judge 
correctly when cake, bread, etc., are done. If ever so perfectly 
made, it wUl be heavy if taken from the oven before being 
thoroughly baked. "When obliged to turn pans round in 
the oven, do not move them roughly, and never, if possible, 
take cake, bread, or biscuit out of the oven to turn. The air 
striking on them will make them heavy and solid. 

Cake made with sour milk or buttermilk should be put 
into the oven the moment it is put together, unless, like 
cookies or hard gingerbread, it is to be molded or rolled. 
In that case it is quite as good to be kept overnight or for 
some hours before baking. 

In making pastry use the best butter you can find. Poor 
butter is bad enough anywhere, but noAvhere so detestable as 
in pastry. If made Avith lard it looks nicer, but is by no 
means so good, and certainly much more hurtful than when 
shortened with two thirds more butter than lard. Use the 
hands as little as possible in making pastry ; either rub in the 
shortening quickly, or chop it into .the flour, so as not to heat 
it by your hands, particularly in warm weather. Wet always 
with cold water, and in summer with ice-cold water. Don't 
touch it with your hands after you are ready to put in the 



MAKING CAKE AND PASTRY. 365 

water, but stir together with a knife quickly and. hghtly, turn- 
ing it at once upon the board and roll out. Molding will make 
it tough. Bake in a moderately hot oven to a delicate brown. 
If scorched or hard baked, it will be bitter and disagreeable. 
If your oven does not bake so well at the bottom as at the 
top, the bottom crust will be very heavy and unhealthy. 

Before rolling out, let your pastry stand on the ice, or in a 
cold place for an hour, as it makes it much more flaky. 

In making puddings, some advise beating both whites and 
yelks together and then straining them. We prefer to beat 
separately, straining the yelks. The milk for most pies 
should be boiled, in which case the eggs must be added the 
last thing, and after the milk has become cool. 

In batter puddings, only a little milk should be added to 
the flour at a time, and all the lumps beaten out smoothly 
before adding more, if you would have a light batter. "When 
berries of any kind are put into batter pudding, they 
should be rolled in flour and added to the batter the last 
thing, or they will not mix well, and will settle to the bottom 
and be heavy. One third more flour is requisite for a batter 
pudding with fruit than when plain, except with cherries. 
They need only a little more. 

If you have no tin pudding-boiler, a bowl, with a thick 
cloth tied tightly over, answers very well, or a thick tow or 
" butcher's linen " square cloth. If a cloth is used, wring it 
out of cold water, and then sprinkle or spread flour over. 
Tie the cloth or bag very tight, but allow room to swell ; 
plunge at once into a pot of boiling water, which must be 
kept constantly boiling until the pudding is done, or it will 
be poor and watery. Eeplenish the water as it wastes, by 
pouring boiHng water from the teakettle into the pot. If 
there is fruit in the pudding, it should be turned over four 
or five times the first half-hour ; if plain batter, turn it over 
when it has boiled ten minutes, or the flour will settle. 



366 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

"When done, a boiled pudding must be plunged into cold 
water a moment, to make it separate from the cloth easily. 
In cutting a boiled pudding, dip the knife in hot water for a 
minute, or lay it on the sides of the pudding till warm, and 
you can cut it without making it heavy. 

Old housekeepers ^vill think these hints quite needless, 
but letters daily received show them to be very much needed 
by the young, with whom in a short time we intend to have 
another quiet talk, from which the old folks may retire. 



LXXXV. 

AS THY DAY SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE. 

FROM those who seek counsel or consolation we receive 
many letters which we would gladly excuse ourselves 
from answering, by the plea that such topics come not under 
our supervision. But we cannot feel that words for " The 
Household " mean only information about the washing, cook- 
ing, and house-cleaning, — simply those things which belong 
to the temporal state and bodily comfort. We are compelled 
to attach a broader meaning to that word household. All 
the joys and sorrows, the hopes and fears, all the perplex- 
ities and anxieties which the mother, even more than the 
mistress, must accept when she assumes her position as the 
head of the home circle, cluster around the word and rise 
before her each hour of the day, if she conscientiously tries 
to do her duty. N'ot alone the health and bodily comfort of 
those who compose her kingdom, but their life-long useful- 
ness and eternal happiness, are committed to her Avatchful 
care, and may be Avrecked by one false step, one unguarded 
act, one ill-tempered word or unjust suspicion. Ah, to at- 



AS THY DAY SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE. 367 

tempt to trace her responsibility through all the life that lies 
before her is overwhelming if she has not learned to feel 
that '* as her day so shall her strength be " ! 

At tunes the mother's life is full of brightness and joyous- 
ness ; again, she sinks to the depths of despondency, or trem- 
bles with wild forebodings as her multiplying duties rise up 
l)efore her, and she realizes how many conflicting characters 
and dispositions are depending on her for guidance. No- 
where does she feel this so keenly as in the care of her chil- 
dren. The consciousness of ignorance or inability to judge 
correctly, to act judicicjusly, so as to meet the wants of 
each child and be just to all, oppresses her. If all were 
alike, so that one code of laws, one well-digested line of 
action, would be as appropriate to the whole as to each indi- 
vidual case, the responsibdity of rearing a family would be 
far less oppressive. 

But there are no two the same. Each differs so widely in 
taste, disposition, and habits, that it necessitates as many 
modes of management as there are children in the ftuuily. 
One is lo^dng and gentle. The parents need but express a 
wish, and, through the affections, the child finds its greatest 
pleasure in yielding its own wishes to secure theirs. Another 
is timid and sensitive to the last degree. A sharp " word at 
random spoken," or ill-advised censure, may have " eternal 
power through life to wound," because this very timidity in- 
duces a habit of reticence and concealment ; the child pre- 
ferring to endure the pain, rather than go through the ordeal 
of an explanation or justification ; and the next one may be 
too proud to attempt it, both coming to the same results 
through widely different peculiarities. 

One is bold and outspoken ; another carelessly, recklessly 
happy, forgetting or neglecting all the rules of home in the 
overflowing joyousness of living ; another is so under the in- 
fluence of approbativeness, that to please and be approved. 



368 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

crowd independent, manly action out of sight ; and the 
mother is too happy, if the power of this peculiarity does 
not too often draw the child beyond the bounds of strict 
honor and truthfulness. 

And so through a large family you may look in vain for 
two so similar in character that, by taking that course which 
proves best for one, you may safely guide the other by it. 

A mother of eight children, whose faith is wellnigh ex- 
hausted, who is cast down and wholly discouraged, thinks 
she would gladly die to escape the great responsibility of 
managing them ; and this responsibility is growing greater 
and greater each year, as her boys and girls are leaving baby- 
hood behind, and rapidly springing up toward manhood and 
womanhood. While they were little she enjoyed every mo- 
ment, never feeling the care a burden. By and by one was 
taken from her, and for a while she refused to be comforted, 
till the Saviour spake and drew her to him. 

But while she has evidently learned to believe in Jesus, we 
think she has not yet learned to trust. After her conversion, 
the sense of her obligations to lead her children by the 
strait and narrow road has, we think, pressed very heavily 
upon her, and she is in danger, not only of hedging the path 
so closely as to render it distasteful, and to drive them from 
it, but is also depriving herself of all the joy she might pos- 
sess by their true and loving companionship. She becomes 
alarmed at every act which teaches her that her children are 
but mortal, and sees in it evidence conclusive that they are 
rapidly going to destruction. 

She comes to us for counsel and asks, "Is it because I am 
so sinful or so incompetent, that I do not succeed better in 
teaching my dear ones to forsake the evil and choose only 
the good 1 They are loving and kind ; but if their hearts are 
not entirely astray from God, why do they so constantly for- 
get all I try to teach them, and do those things which they 



AS THY DAY SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE. 369 

know I think wrong 1 Did you ever feel discouraged and 
almost hopeless 1 " 

Yes, yes ! And voluntarily threw away half the com- 
fort every mother is entitled to when her children are young 
and ever with her. Anxious mothers never fully remember 
the days of their own youth, or realize that half of what 
they call sin is but the overflow of bright, young spirits, 
ready to effervesce and sparkle a little beyond the strict lines 
that the mother, in her more sedate years, has marked out as 
the proper bounds. Then mothers are so full of apprehen- 
sion, so easily alarmed ! " The evils of this life appear 
like rocky precipices, — rugged and barren when seen at a 
distance "; and they are sure their children will stumble and 
fall, and be destroyed by them. But wait and tntst. When 
the great pressure of present care is somewhat lifted, and the 
children, one by one, go out from your immediate influence, 
and little grandchildren rise up about you, — for whom, 
though you dearly love them, you do not feel the full respon- 
sibility, — you will find on a nearer approach to these " rocky 
precipices " which so frightened you, " that there are many 
fruitful spots and refreshing springs mixed with the harsh- 
ness and deformities of nature." And remember, above all 
things, that it is folly to add all the possible cares and bur- 
dens of the future to those which can come to you only day 
by day. 

" Does each day iipon the wing 
Its allotted burden bring ? 
Load it not besides with sorrow 
Which belongeth to the morrow. 
Strength is promised, strength is given, 
When the heart by God is riven ; 
"Bnt fnredate the day of woe, 
And alo7ie thou bear'st the blow. 



" One thing only claims thy care : 
Seek thou first, by faith and prayer, 



16* 



370 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Tliat all-glorious world above, — 
Scene of rigliteousness and love ; 
And, whate'er thou need'st below. 
He thou tnistest will bestow." 



LXXXVI. 



WHAT WE KNOW NOT NOW WE SHALL KNOW 
HEREAFTER. 

STRANGE how natural it is for each individual to feel 
that there are no troubles, no sorrows, so severe as his 
own ! How ready we are to feel that if the lessons our Fa- 
ther is teaching us were such as others around us were learn- 
ing, we could surely bear them with fortitude ! 

The mother whom we spoke of in the last article, like many 
more who fully understand her difficulties, — for they are 
passing over the same rough road, — felt her trust and faith 
failing ; yea, would " gladly lie down and die," before half 
her threescore years and ten were accomplished, might she. 
escape the responsibility of teaching her children, and using 
her best faculties (no one is asked to do any more) to train 
them up into noble men and women. The task appeared so 
hard, the way so long, and her faith so weak ! 

Now another mother claims, at least, our fullest sympathy, 
— a Eachel, " mourning for her children, and refusing to be 
comforted, because they are not." One after another has 
been taken from her, and each one at " the most interesting 
age." 

"When is this " most interesting " age 1 ■ Can a mother 
draw the line 1 In early babyhood the precious gift nestles 
in her bosom, and lives entirely through her life, — so de- 
pendent on her for every care and comfort, that no one else 



WE SHALL KNOW HEREAFTER, 371 

can attempt to supply her place. Utterly helpless as the 
babe is, when the mother realizes how necessary to its life is 
her ceaseless watchfulness, can there be any period when it 
wiU be so interesting, so dear to her heart, as now, in this 
state of complete dependence 1 

Cut slowly it emerges from this helpless condition. Its 
first recognition, its first smiles and playfulness, are all be- 
witching. What can be more lovely 1 A few weeks pass, 
and it can sit alone ; then it begins to creep ; now, with 
what absorbing interest the first steps are watched, and com- 
mented upon with a pride and earnestness as if no child 
ever did all these things before. The mother's heart is over- 
flowing Avith love and tenderness ; but God calls, and the 
lovely babe is forever hid from her sight. 

How can she bear it 1 Whose sorrow was ever like unto 
hers 1 Why is it that God has sent this trial ? What lesson 
can be taught by it, that will do half the good which that 
child's presence would have accomplished'? What is there 
in the care, the anxieties of watching over its maturing, 
which can be thought a hardship 1 How joyfully would 
this mother bear all this, if the life of her child might have 
been spared ! She longs to lie down and die, not because 
of the responsibihty which she knows would have increased 
with every added year, — ■ she could have trusted her Father 
to give her strength sufiicient for those duties. Her faith and 
trust fail, because God took her child from her, and in her 
anguish she cries, " Why am I thus bereaved 1 " In answer 
to these sad questions we can only say, " What ye know not 
now ye shall know hereafter." In the first bitterness of 
this grief, there is nothing more to be said. 

Another little one is given to soothe the mother. She 
watches it with trembling heart, through all the stages that 
her first-born had passed. Every unusual motion, every cry 
the child utters, fills her heart with alarm ; some fresh cause 



372 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

for fear is found daily. But the little one thrives, has 
reached and passed all the pomts of deep interest which 
once before the mother watched with such pride. ISTow it 
begins to lisp her name, and shortly its cmaning prattle is 
the theme of constant thought and conversation. "When she 
rises in the morning, — at the table, by the fireside, — it 
is again and again repeated, a many-times-told tale, but al- 
ways fresh, always new and beautiful. The mother has 
nothing else with which to entertain the friends who call, 
and truly believes that nothing could be told so new or so 
pleasing. In her absorbing dehght over each new grace and 
beauty that is day by day developing, has she always re- 
membered the Giver of her treasure"? or, has her love be- 
come idolatry 1 

Again death enters, and just as the mother has begun to 
feel secure, her darling is snatched away from her. In this 
hour of anguish, what can comfort 1 Her heart rises up in 
rebellion, and she sees only cruelty in this second stroke. 
In her despair she accuses God wrongfully. She demands 
the reason why, "What evil have I done, that I am be- 
reaved of my children 1 " And friends can only weep with 
her, saying, " What ye know not now ye shall know here- 
after ! " 

We grieve with you, poor stricken mother. We know 
every step of the thorny road you are crossing ; but do not 
allow these trials to make your heart grow cold and bitter. 
You say, " I see nothing but injustice in these dispensations 
which have left my home so desolate. Another child has 
been given us, but I am trying to steel my heart against it, 
for anything I love is taken from me." 

This is all wrong. You say that your husband is kind, and 
bearing his own sorroAV for the loss of the little one silently, 
that he may comfort you. Should you not remember that 
he has been equally bereaved, and may need your sympathy 1 



WE SHALL KNOW HEREAFTER. 373 

" Bear ye one another's burdens," antl by so doing will you 
not find strength to rise above this affliction, so far that you 
can perform your duties with comfort, if not with cheerful- 
ness ] You say you have no pleasure in the little one still 
left you. May it not have been sent as a ministering spirit, 
to awaken in your heart a deeper love and gratitude for the 
mercies that still surround you, and bring you nearer to the 
Father, who often " wounds to heal, afflicts to save " 1 
There are trials harder to bear than those which seem to 
have so nearly crushed you. When, instead of the prattle 
and frolic of babyhood, the child becomes old enough to be 
taught how to assist the mother in various Avays, — begins 
to read and study, showing a mind rapidly maturing, giving 
promise of no common strength of character, — do you not 
see that it must become even more precious with each new 
development 1 Yet when incurable disease fastens upon it, 
and the parents see their bright and joyous child slowly but 
surely fading from their home, is not this a heavier calamity 
than when our little ones are taken from their cradles after 
only a few days of suffering 1 

"We have seen a mother for months hold back her tears, 
and minister to the wants of the sufferer ; and, hardest of all, 
sit by the bedside and listen to the child's anxious question- 
ings, — soothing its fears, when knowing that it is just enter- 
ing the dark valley ; singing of the peace and joys that lie 
beyond ; step by step, as death came nearer, leading this 
child of her love down even to the banks of the " river that 
flows close by the throne of God," that when its timid feet 
touch the Avaters she may herself almost lay the child into 
the Saviour's arms, who is waiting to receive and bless it. I n 
this, cannot you imagine that there is a depth of anguish 
which you have not yet flithomed ? As our children groAV to- 
ward manhood and womanhood with promise of rich maturity, 
does not our love grow with their growth, and strengthen 



374 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

with their strength'? When their education is just com- 
pleted, and they are almost ready to begin life's work, if 
taken from us, is not the loss greater, the desolation more 
appalling, than that which you have known 1 

But your sorrow, though yet unsanctified, must be, to us, 
held sacred from severe judgment. Nature will rule for a 
time, and may compel utterance for which you can hardly 
be held responsible. We only fear that your grief may be- 
come morbid and your heart refuse to see the silver lining 
which may be discerned in every cloud. Why these afflic- 
tions have been sent we cannot tell. Our Father sees when 
our hearts have turned from their allegiance, and knows best 
what sharp lessons will be necessary to bring us back to 
him. He may see that your love has blinded you to the 
solemn duties that rest upon you, and to save the children 
from the eifects of injudicious indulgence, may have taken 
them to himself, and by their loss design to draw you 
nearer. 

Some lines, sent us by Mrs. Crann, the author of " Little 
Foxes," will show you more clearly what we would convey 
than any words of oiu:s : — ■ 

"We sat within a lighted room, 

My baby boy and I ; 
But empty were my loving arras, 

Where he was wont to lie 
And look np fondly in my face, 

For pretty toys were near ; 
And, though I called him lovingly, 

The darling woiUd not hear. 

" I yearned to clasp him to my heart, 

But wooed him all in vain ; 
To leave his play and come to me 

Would give him too much jjain. 
I took the candle in my hand, 

And, with a breath of air, 
Extinguished its soft, cheerful light. 

And made all darkness there. 



UNTIL DEATH DO US PART. 375 

" And soon I heard a sweet-toned voice, 
To whicli I love to hark, 
Cry, ' Mother, take me in your arras ! 
I 'm frightened in tlie dark ! ' 
, And tlieu I caught the svi^eet boy uji, 
And felt him clasp me tight, 
And knew that I was needed then. 
Because there was no light. 

"And as my darling grew in years, 

The brightness of my joy 
Made me adore our Father less 

Than I adored my boy. 
He called me in a tender tone, — 

His voice is always mild, — 
But I refused to go to Him, 

And played on with my child. 

" And then He blew my candle out 

By stopping Harry's breath ; 
And in the anguish of that grief. 

The darkness of that death, 
I cried out in a trembling voice. 

And with an aching brow, 
* I 'm coming to thee, my God ! . 

For my heart needs thee now. ' " 



LXXXVIL 

UNTIL DEATH DO US PART. 

" A WIFE " writes that she has three children ; has 
7v been married eight years, and thinks it would be 
pleasant to be relieved from all home cares, and travel for a 
few months. Her mother would take her children home, so 
that she could feel perfectly at ease aboiit them, but her hus- 
band objects. He cannot possibly go with her, and though 
it would be much pleasanter to have him accompany her, yet 



370 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

she could go with friends, who would give her every atten- 
tion. Her husband is abundantly able to afford her this 
pleasure, but objects to her leaving him, — " having his 
home broken up, and his children separated from him " 
(sensible man ! ). " He endeavors to jDcrsuade her to be con- 
tented at home until by and by he can take wife and chil- 
dren on this pleasure trip." 

IS'ow she declares that she has no faith in these hy and 
hyes, with which husbands seek to keep their wives from en- 
joying the present, by promises for the future. She thinks 
him unreasonably selfish, and feels that she would be justified 
in cutting loose from such bondage occasionally, and taking 
her pleasure, as she constantly sees so many other ladies 
doing. 

We are pained with the whole tone of this letter, of 
which we give but a few lines. ^Notwithstanding her com- 
plaints and fault-finding, the writer cannot hide the fact 
that, from her own showing, she has a pleasant home, an in- 
dulgent husband, and wealth sufficient to obviate any neces- 
sity for labor or care, more than is required to superintend 
her domestic affairs, and look after her children, as every 
mother and housekeeper pledges herself to do when she en- 
ters the marriage state. It is natural that her husband 
should object to her leaving him for months, deprive him 
of his children, and disorganize his home, for her own grati- 
fication. 

" Until death do us part^^ the promise reads : not sim- 
ply for a few years, at the end of which time the whole 
domestic economy may become deranged simply for personal 
pleasure, apart from the family. 

We see nothing that this dissatisfied woman has to com- 
plain of, but are inchned to think she has been infected 
with those perrdcious doctrines which have led to loud com- 
plaints about women, — defrauded of her rights, woman's 



UNTIL DEATH DO US PART. 377 

cruel subjugation, — doctrines with which we have less and 
less patience, because we see more and more clearly the mis- 
takes and mischief which have sprung and will continue to 
spring from them, unless the " plague is stayed." No doubt 
many a Avoman is oppressed and treated unkindly, often 
cruelly, and made to feel that she is placed by her husband 
in a suliordinate position, instead of reigning ivith him over 
their home, — his other self with equal rights and power, 
as is only meet, — having charge of one department, while 
he takes another for which his stronger organization and 
peculiar masculine abilities are better adapted. The husband 
to superintend the outside, severer duties : the wife as God 
prepared her to be, the mother watching over infancy, and 
through those duties made less physically strong, but giving 
grace and refinement to the home, which, without her, — 
under masculine supervision, — would degenerate into coarse- 
ness and inelegance. 

"We know there are many overtaxed, broken-down women 
who by kindness and just appreciation might have been 
saved, and remained altogether lovely and refined, making 
their homes like Paradise before the fall. 

There are also many broken-down men, dispirited, uneasy 
of hfe, ruined by the frivolity, irritability, and extrava- 
gance of their wives, whom a refined, sensible, loving woman, 
would have redeemed and made happy, noble, and godlike. 

"We imagine the rights and the wrongs are about equally 
divided on either side. The deceitfulness of the human 
heart, the natural depravity, unsubdued, left to run wild 
and ungoverned, seeking not the peace and happiness of the 
chosen partner, but their own selfish gratification, has changed 
many a noble man into a reckless, uncomfortable, unprinci- 
pled husband, or an arbitrary and harsh domestic tyrant. 
And the same selfish indulgence and unregulated passions 
have also changed many a woman, capable of shining in her 



378 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

appropriate sphere as mother, or home refiner, into an irrita- 
ble, unsatisfied, fireside torment. 

But this is wandering from the main point, through a 
train of thoughts very naturally evoked by the perusal of 
the letter referred to. "We believe many homes are injured, 
and much dissatisfaction and unhappiness occasioned by the 
greatly increased disposition to travel ; roaming each year 
away from home, and too frequently without the companion- 
ship which should naturally be secured. A man is often com- 
pelled by business to be absent from home for weeks, or even 
months, to go abroad, and frequently when it would be impos- 
sible for him to take his wife with him. Often one must go 
for health, while it is important that the other shoidd remain 
at home to look after their common interests. These are mis- 
fortuii?s which cannot be avoided, and must be borne from 
necessity, not from choice. 

But when we see either desiring to roam, " to go a pleas- 
uring " alone, when both cannot go, we wonder at the folly 
which is laying the foundation for bitter regret in later years. 
The marriage ceremony is but a mockery, if the two who 
exchange vows are not expecting to find their chief earthly 
joys in each other's society. But when they can bring their 
minds to a separation of weeks or months, just for pleasure, 
we think they little dream of the heart-aches they are laying 
up in store for one another. 

Keep together while you can. Death will sever the bond, 
all too soon, or sickness compel absence, full of fear and sad 
forebodings. It is impossible for a husband and wife to 
be absent from each other often, even for a few weeks at a 
time, without finding little changes on their return. Every 
one has some peculiarities of character and disposition which 
are not exactly congenial ; but if married young, before hab- 
its or traits are fixed past change, all these httle infehcities 
are softened or lost sight of in daily communion, and man and 



UNTIL DEATH DO US PART. 379 

wife assimilate, and grow more and more of one heart and 
one mind, if happily mated. But let these separations, even 
of short duration, once begin, and they soon grow apart. 
The natural traits and dissimilarities which constant associa- 
tion have held dormant wake up, and are less and less easily 
lulled to sleep after each separation. 

We think women are more injured by this roving than 
men. The latter are seldom long absent, except on business, 
with no leisure for pleasure-seeking while away ; and in their 
necessarily rapid traveling, the hurry, the annoyance, the loss 
of creature comforts, which are found in greater perfection at 
home, are more felt, and usually the comforts and luxuries of 
their own fireside are more fully appreciated on their return. 
In the whirl of business while absent, they have little temp- 
tation to take up any unusual line of thought or action. But 
a woman, unless she must go for her health, more frequently 
travels to have a " good time," throwing aside all cares, instead 
of taking them with her as her husband does. In this free- 
dom, she at once enters upon a mode of life altogether differ- 
ent from that which a wife, mother, or housekeeper can have 
at home. Her love of nicety and order is less disturbed when 
she has only herself to care for ; and a selfish habit, a feeling 
of entire independence, is easily established, so that when she 
returns home she finds it difficult to take up again what was 
once a pleasure, but now seems more hke the " burden of 
life." The noise and confusion of children or much company, 
for the care of which she feels responsible, are far more 
irksome than before her " pleasure trip." She does not find 
the yoke so easy or the burden so light. The habit of being 
interested in or sharing one another's cares, reporting little 
items of daily news when together, is destroyed, and without 
any intentional unkindness they have learned to turn to 
others for the amusement or the social intercourse which was 
once a part of their life. 



380 MOTHERLY TALKS WITH YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. 

These are not intentional sliglds, bnt the changes which 
repeated absence most naturally brings. A woman sees the 
changes much sooner than a man, — sees, grieves over them, 
and is made unhappy by them, if she loves her husband, 
though often too proud to let it be known. It pleastire trijys 
are frequent or of long duration, these changes are more 
marked. Husbands and wives, who were once made uncom- 
fortable and restless if one meal passed unshared, learn after 
a while, by frequent separations, to let many pass with but 
little regret. Separation has lost its former importance in 
their eyes. Why should it not be so 1 If death divides them, 
however true the sorrow, time after a while must bring heal- 
ing ; and the heart, although there will always be a niche 
which no one else can occupy, must, after many days, turn for 
comfort and companionship to other, if not better friends. 
Sometimes, perhaps, in a younger and fairer, the old love 
is entirely lost sight of. 

Let this discontented wife, who, after eight years of mar- 
ried life and the care of home and three children, feels that 
she should be indulged in a vacation and freedom from these 
responsibilities, ponder well the probable consequences of 
the steps she desires to take in opposition to her husband's 
wishes. To secure the short-lived pleasure of a feAV months' 
travel, can she afford to risk the many changes she may ex- 
pect on her return 1 Will she be willing to see that her 
husband has less confidence in her, less desire for her society, 
than formerly ; that he has learned that there are many com- 
forts and pleasures to be found outside his home? Is the 
gratification worth the price she may be called to pay for it ? 

We have not put this subject in as clear and strong a light 
as Ave desired ; but if what we have said may have sufficient 
weight to lead this " wife," and others who are showing 
indications of having been infected with the same restless, 
dissatisfied spirit, to think long and soberly before they 



UNTIL DEATH DO US PART. 



381 



decide, we shall be thaiildul. We do not believe a true- 
hearted, sensible wife would willingly desert her post or 
seek any enjoyment in which her family cannot share. 

Keep your families unbroken ; together share each other's 
joys and sorrows, so far as possible, until death severs the 
bond. That is the wisest, happiest way of living. When 
death compels separations, you will have enough to regret, 
without mourning for the days needlessly spent apart. 




PART II. 
CHOICE FAMILY EEOEIPTS. 



CHOICE FAMILY EECEIPTS. 



YEAST. 

Yeast. — Good yeast is indispensable in order to secure good 
bread. 

Pare and boil eight medium-sized potatoes. Remove them from 
the water when done, and put into it one small handful of loose 
or two teaspoonfuls oH 2)rcssed hops. While these are boiling, mash 
and roll the potatoes very smooth, free from lumps ; mix with 

them three even table-spoonfuls of flour, a half-cup of sugar, 

brown sugar is the best for yeast, — one even table-spoonful of 
ginger, and three of salt. Strain out the hops after boiling fifteen 
minutes, and pour the boiling water over tlie potatoes, flour, etc. 
Stir well together, and again set it on the range or stove till it 
boils up once, stirring it all the time, or it will burn. This done, 
pour it into a large earthen bowl or stone pot to cool. When 
blood-warm, add one penny's worth of bakers' yeast or a yeast- 
cake. Keep in a warm place till well raised, then put it into a 
stone jug ; cork and tie down securely. 

One teacupful will raise three good-sized loaves. 

Another. — Take one pint of the water in which the potatoes 
for dinner were boiled ; while it is boiling hot, thicken vnth flour ; 
add a cup of yeast when the batter is cool. Set the jar in which 
it is made in a warm place, and it vnll be light in a few hours 
and ready to use. 

Yeast-Cakes. — Pour a pint of boiling water over a teaspoon- 
ful of hops ; let it stand ten or fifteen minutes, then strain the 
water into a saucepan ; heat it boiling hot, stir in flour enough to 
make a stiff batter, and set it aside to cool. When lukewarm, 
put in a teacupful of good yeast, or a yeast-cake softened in 
water. Set in a warm place to rise. When light, add a tea- 
17 Y 



386 CPIOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

spoonful of salt, two table-spoonfuls of molasses or sugar, and a 
little soda. Then mix in corn meal to make it stiff enough to roll 
into a long round roll. Cut it in slices about half an inch thick, 
spread meal over your board, and lay these cakes to dry. Turn 
them frequently while drying, and, if possible, get them dried in 
two or three days, or they may become sour. It is well to diy 
them in the air, but not in the sun. Put them in bags in a diy 
place ; and when you use one soak it in milk- warm water. 

BEEAD. 

General Rules. — Five quarts of flour and one quart of milk 
or water are suflicient for two loaves in quart-pans. 

Rub shortening, salt, and potatoes, if used, into the flour before 
wetting it. The milk or water for wetting should be about milk- 
warm, and the yeast be stirred into part of the wetting for the 
sponge, or into the w^hole, if the bread is to be made without 
sponging ; then pour it on the flour and knead. 

Bread without Sponging. — Sift five quarts of flour, cover 
and set by the fire to dry. Pare and Ijoil five medium-sized pota- 
toes. When done, drain them dry from the water and sprinkle 
over them a teaspoonful of salt. Mash perfectly smooth and free 
from lumps, adding an even table-spoonful of sugar, and rub all 
together, till potatoes and flour are perfectly combined. Take a 
pint of the water in which the potatoes were boiled, and a little 
more than a pint of milk, and when blood-warm stir into it one 
cup of home-made or a cent's worth of bakers' yeast. Pour it on 
the flour and potatoes, and knead the whole together without 
sponging. All bread should be kneaded a full half-hour, then 
covered with a clean bread-cloth, and over that a bread-blanket, 
and set in a warm place to rise. If mixed overnight it will be 
ready for the second molding before breakfast ; then make into 
loaves and put into the pans for tlie second and last rising. When 
light let it be Avell baked, but not long enough to make it hard 
and dry. When done, take from the pans, vsrrap a bread-cloth 
round each loaf, and turn upper side down into the pans, leaving 
it there till cold. This will help to make the crust tender. 

Good Bread. — Put what flour will be needed for two or four 
loaves, according to the size of your family, into your bread bowl 



BREAD. 387 

or pan. Make a hole in the niiildle, pressing the flour compactly 
towards the sides of the pan ; then pour in sufficient boiling water 
to thoroughly scald and wet about one half of the flour. When 
cool, stir in one cupful of lively domestic yeast or a cent's worth 
of bakers', or, if you prefer, a small cake of dried yeast pre^dously 
soaked in warm water. Set it near the stove or in a warm place 
in cool weather, cover closely just before retiring at night, and it 
will be light by morning, when a teaspoonful of salt and enough 
more warm, but not hot, water to wet all the flour must be added ; 
knead it veiy thoroughly, and set it to rise again. When light, 
work it again, and put in the jians to rise for the last time, and 
as soon as it is light bake in a moderately heated oven. If the 
oven is too hot at first, the bread is apt to get brown on top and 
bottom too soon, and then it will not be done in the middle. A 
moderate oven at first is best, increasing the heat gradually until 
the bread is about half done, when it should be of a steady heat 
till the bread is done. 

Bread with Sponging. — Stir into three cjuarts of milk-warm 
water one even table-spoonful of salt, and flour enough to make a 
soft batter. To this add the yeast above mentioned, or, in warm 
weather, use only half as much. Set the pan in a warm place in 
cold weather, and cover closely with a clean bread-cloth. Make 
this sponge at bedtime. If the sponge is at all sour in the morn- 
ing, dissolve a teaspoonful of soda in a little water and stir in ; 
then work in as much flour as is needed to mold it easily, and 
knead it thoroughly. Make it into small loaves, and see that the 
pans are well buttered and warmed when used. Keep them in a 
warm place, and cover with a clean white bread-cloth. If properly 
cared for, it will be light in an hour, and ready for the oven, which 
must be well heated. In baking bread or cake, care should be 
taken that the top does not broAvn too soon, as that will prevent 
its rising up light, as it otherwise would. If this makes too many 
loaves, it is easy to make only half or one third the quantity. 

To make Bread from Flour that runs. — Put what flour 
you need in your pan, and pour enough boiling water over to 
just wet all of it, but not to make it thin ; sprinkle in a tea- 
spoonful of salt and a spoonful of butter ; stir it up with a large 
wooden spoon until sure that all the flom* is scalded ; then cover 



388 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

and let it stand till cool enough to add the yeast. So that the 
yeast is sweet and lively, you can use any kind you prefer, 
bakers' or home-made. When the flour is siifficiently cool, clear 
to the bottom, add your yeast, and give the whole mass a faithful 
kneading, adding more tepid milk or water, if needed. Knead 
till the dough cleaves from your hand easily, then set it to rise. 
When very light, knead again, put into the pans, and leave it to 
rise once more ; then bake as directed above. 

By this method running flour can often be conquered, and 
bread thus scalded will be found uncommonly sweet and tender. 

Bread by Scalding the Flour. — Pour enough boiling wa- 
ter on two quarts of flour to wet it thoroughly ; add two even 
table-spoonfuls of butter ; stir all well together, and let it stand 
till cool ; then add a small cup of domestic yeast, or not quite a 
penny's worth of bakers' yeast ; mold it fifteen minutes, then set 
by the fire to rise. When it begins to crack on top, put it on the 
molding-board, beat it with the rolling-pin, and chop and mold 
alternately for twenty minutes ; then make into loaves, prick 
them on top, and set them by the fire to rise once more. As soon 
as light, bake. Bread made in this way is not cpite so white, but 
is very sweet and light. If flour is at all inclined to " run," the 
scalding will stop it. 

To make Stale Bread fresh. — Put the loaf into a clean 
tin, and cover closely to exclude all water, and set into a steamer 
or a kettle of boiling water for half an hour ; then remove it from 
the tin and it will look like fresh bread, and be really almost 
equal to a new loaf. 

Graham Bread. — Two quarts of unbolted wheat, half a cent's 
worth of bakers' yeast, or half a teacup of home-made yeast ; two 
table-spoonfuls of molasses, one even teaspoonful of salt, and 
warm water or milk and water enough to make a stifi" dough. 
Beat this well, or, wetting your hands in water, mix it very thor- 
oughly ; cover closely, and let it rise light, — about six hours in 
warm weather, or in ■winter mix just before going to bed. When it 
is light, wet your hands in cold water and put it into well-buttered 
pans. Let it rise in the pans about an inch ; an hour will gener- 
ally be long enough. Bake an hour and a half, or until it is very 
well baked, but not scorched. 



BREAD. 389 

Or, take three small cups of the sponge from your wheat 
bread ; when well risen add to it two spoonfuls of moLosses, half 
a teacup of Indian meal, one teaspoonful of salt, and half a pint 
of warm milk and water ; stir in enough Graham flour to make 
a stitf dough, and cover closely and set to rise. When light, fill 
your pans half full ; let it rise once more, and bake carefully. 

Or, pour boiling water over one quart of Graham flour ; add a 
teaspoonful of salt, three table-spoonfuls of molasses. Let it stand 
till lukewarm ; then add half a cup of home-made yeast, or part 
of a penny's worth of bakers' yeast ; dip your hands in cold water, 
and mix it thoroughly. If too stift", add more warm water. If 
too thin, mix in more flour. It should not be so stiff" as for fine 
flour bread. Let it rise light ; then put it into well-buttered 
pans to rise again. When light, bake one hour. It requires 
a hotter oven and needs to bake longer than other bread. 

Or, one quart of flour, one teaspoonful of salt, three table-spoon- 
fuls of molasses, and two table- spoonfuls of yeast ; wet with warm 
water, or warm milk and water, till as thick as pound-cake. If 
wanted for breakfast, let it stand overnight. When ready to 
bake, add a well-beaten egg and a teaspoonful of soda ; put into 
buttered pans and liake well. 

Or, one quart of buttermilk or sour milk, soda enough to make 
it foam, and while foaming pour it on the Graham flour, stirring 
it together quickly. The flour should be all ready in the pan, 
and one teaspoonful of salt, and a scant half-teaciip of molasses 
stirred into it before the soda is put to the buttermilk. Make it 
as thick as pomid-cake ; bake immediately one hour with a steady 
hot fire ; add a well-beaten egg if in a huny for your bread, as it 
will bake sooner, and Ave think be lighter for it. 

Steamed Brown Bread. — One cup of Indian meal, two cu[is 
of rye, one cup of molasses, two cups of milk, a half-teaspoonful 
of soda, the same of salt. Stir well together and steam in some 
of the new " boilers " or " cookers " or " steamers " three hours ; 
taking care that the water does not stop boiling. Add boiling 
water as the water boils away. If you wish it hot for breakfast, 
steam the day before, and in the morning set it in the oven for 
half an hour to form a good crust. 

Corn Bread. — Sift two cups of Indian meal overnight ; jiour 



390 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

on it just enougli really hoiling water to moisten or wet it through ; 
cover it up and let it stand till morning ; then add one cup of 
flour in which an even teaspoonful of cream of tartar has been 
sifted. Dissolve half a teaspoonful of soda in one cup of sweet 
milk, and stir with the meal and flour ; add half a small cup of 
sugar ; beat two eggs — yelks and whites separately — and put 
in the last thing. Bake in a quick oven. 

Rice Bread (Southern Receipt). — One piut of rice flour, half a 
pint of wheat flour, one pint of sour milk, two eggs, butter half the 
size of an egg, and one teaspoonful of soda. The rice flour must 
be very fine, and stirred in after the other ingredients are partly 
mixed. Bake as soon as possible after the whole is stirred together. 

Bread is sometimes made of ai^ple mixed with flour, by putting 
one third of stewed apple-pulp to two thirds of flour, and ferment- 
ing with yeast for twelve hours. This bread is said to be light 
and very palatable. It is much used in France. 

BISCUIT. 

Morning Biscuit. — One quart of flour, half a teaspoonful of 
salt, two table-spoonfuls of yeast, and one pint of sour milk, with 
lialf a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in it. "Work this into a 
dough ; then rula into the dough half a cup of butter. Knead 
well ; cut off small bits ; shape them into biscuits ; lay them in 
the bake-pan, cover closely with a bread-cloth, and let them stand 
overnight in a warm place in winter and a cool place in summer. 
Bake in the morning for breakfast. 

Tea Biscuit. — Peel and boil four potatoes of medium size. 
When done, mash and roll them smooth and perfectly free from 
lumps, sprinkling a table-spoonful of salt over them. Put to 
the potatoes a half-pint of the water in which they were boiled, a 
half-pint of milk, and a table-spoonful of sugar. Stir into this 
sufficient flour to make it a stiff batter. When cool, add half a 
penny's worth of bakers' yeast, or half a teacup of home-made 
yeast. Cover over with a bread-cloth and blanket. In cold 
weather leave this sponge in a Avarm place overnight to rise. In 
the summer, make it early in the morning. When this is risen 
until quite foamy, soften — but do not melt — two thirds of a 
teacupful of butter, and beat it into the sponge, together with two 



BISCUIT. 391 

egg.-!, yelks and whites beaten separately ; add flour to make it 
stilt" enough to mold, — the softer it can be worked the better it 
will be. Knead it half an hour, then cover and set it to rise. 
When light, knead and chop the dough at least fifteen minutes. 
This done, return it to the bread-bowl, again cover closely, and 
set to rise. When light, repeat the kneading ; let it rise the sec- 
ond time, when it should be worked down and set on the ice in 
the ice-box, until within an hoitr of tea-time ; then it must be 
again molded, rolled out, cut into small biscuits, pricked on the 
top, put into a bake-pan, covered over, and set to rise on a bench, 
near the stove, twenty minutes or half an hour. When light, set 
the biscuits into an evenly heated oven, and bake quickly to a 
delicate brown. When done, cover over with a bread-cloth for a 
short time before removing from the pan, to soften the crust. 

Soda Biscuit. — Put two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar into 
one quart of flour ; sift both together and rub in thoroughly two 
great spoonfuls of butter. Put one teaspoonful of soda into a 
table-spoonful of cold water, and stir till all is dissolved, then put 
it into a pint of cold water and pour it on the flour. Stir together 
quickly ; if it cannot be rolled out, add a little more flour, but 
just as little as it is possible to roll out the biscuits with. Cut in 
s!iape and bake immediately. The great secret of making good 
soda biscuit is to sift the soda with the flour, to have it thor- 
oughly dissolved, the dough made as thin and as quickly as pos- 
sible, and baked immediately. 

Indian-Corn Biscuit. — One quart of corn meal, one pint of 
Avheat flour, sifted together, and stirred into three pints of milk ; 
add a teaspoonful of salt. Beat four eggs, the yelks and whites 
separately, as for sponge-cakes. First stir the yelks into the bat- 
ter ; then add the whites, and a small teaspoonful of soda, the 
last thing. Have ready buttered some cups or small pans ; nearly 
fill them with the batter, and set into the hot oven immediately. 
Bake fast, turn from the cups as soon as done, and serve im- 
mediately. They should puff up so as to more than fill the cups. 

Parker House Rolls. ■ — Two quarts flour, one large spoonful 
of lard, small teaspoonful of salt, one pint boiled milk, — set aside 
till cold, ■ — half-cup sugar, half-cup yeast. Make a hole in center 
of the flour, put in milk, etc., and let it rise overnight. In the 



392 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

morning knead it well, and let it rise till noon ; then cut it into 
long, narrow rolls and let it rise till tea-time. Bake. 

Rusk. — Three colfee-cups new milk, three eggs, one teacup 
butter, one teacup sugar, one of yeast, and flour enough for bat- 
ter. When the batter has well risen, work in more flour, but mix 
it rather soft ; let it rise once more, quite light, but be careful 
that it does not sour ; then make it out into rolls or biscuits ; let 
it stand again a short time, and bake in a moderately hot oven ; 
fifteen or twenty minutes should cook them. 

Sweet Potato Buns. — Boil and mash two good-sized pota- 
toes ; rub in as much flour as will make it. like bread ; add a 
little nutmeg and one table-spoonful of sugar, with a table-spoonful 
of good yeast. When it has risen, work in two table-spoonfuls of 
butter, and soften so as to be easily mixed thoroughly -svith the 
dough ; then form into small rolls, and, when raised the second 
time, bake on tms a nice brown. Serve hot. 

Potato Pone. — Pare and grate on a large grater sweet pota- 
toes enough to make one quart of grated potato. Stir to this one 
pint of sweet milk, two eggs, two thirds of a cup of butter, and 
enough sugar to make it as sweet as plain cake ; season -with 
ginger. Bake till well done. Eat, hot or cold, with butter. If 
desired to be light colored, put the potatoes into cold water as soon 
as pared, and when ready grate into the milk. If dark-colored 
pone is preferred, sweeten with molasses and season with allspice. 
This is very rich made like poimd-cake, using one and a half 
pounds of grated potato in place of flour. 

Gems. — Break into a quart of milk four eggs (two will an- 
swer) without beating, stir in flour till as thick as wafiies. Beat 
till smooth, and fill the "gem" pans half full. Bake quick in a 
hot oven. No salt, soda, or cream of tartar. 

The "gem" pans should be well buttered, and set into the oven 
to get quite hot while the batter is being prepared, and when you 
are filling them, set the pan on the top of the range to keep it hot. 
When filled, set them immediately in the oven. 

Gems, No. 2. — Drop four eggs, without beating, into a 
quart of milk ; add two great spoonfuls of melted butter, and 
beat in flour until as thick as Avafiies. Pour into hot buttered 
gem pans, and bake like the first. 



BREAKFAST AND TEA CAKES. 393 

Graham Gems. — Drop one egg into a quart of milk or water. 
Stir ill Graham flour until as stiff as waffles. Pour into hot, Lut- 
tored gem pans, and bake quickly. Or add to the above one 
table-spoonful of melted butter ; they will be tenderer. 

In all measures the spoon, cup, or tin should never be heaped, 
but even full. 

BREAKFAST AND TEA CAKES. 

Corn Cakes. — Rub one table-spoonful of lard into four cups 
of com meal. Stir the meal into four cujjs of sour milk, with a 
teaspoonful of salt. Beat two eggs very light, and put in one tea- 
spoonful of soda, the last thing. Beat well, and bake in small 
gem irons, or light tin forms. 

Another "Way. — Three teacups of com meal, one teacup of 
wheat Hour, two teacups of milk, one teacup of cream, or a third 
of a teacup of butter, three table-spoonfuls of sugar, one egg, — 
beat yelk and white separately, and very light ; one teaspoonful 
of salt, and half a teaspoonful of soda. Bake in small pans, with 
a brisk heat. 

Another. — Sift two cups of meal, pour over it one teacup 
of boiling milk, stir it up well, and let it stand all night if 
intended for breakfast. The next morning add one cup of wheat 
flour, one of sugar, a half-cup of butter, the well-beaten yelks of 
two eggs ; add, if needed, more milk, so as to make it as thin as 
waffles. Take one scant teaspoonful of soda ; the whites of the 
eggs, beaten stiff, to be added the last. Pour into a well-buttered 
pan and bake about twenty-five miiiutes, in a well-heated oven, 
but not scorching hot. If Jewell's Prepared Flour is used, no 
soda need be added. If correctly prepared and well baked, this 
is excellent. If you have sweet apples, three or four chopped 
very fine, added, and two thirds of a cup of finely chopped suet, 
instead of butter, is a very great improvement. 

Another. — One cupful of flour, two cupfuls of corn me:d, 
two great spoonfuls of sugar, not quite half a cupful of butter, 
one cupful of milk, two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar, sifted with 
the meal and flour, and a small teaspoonful of soda ; two eggs, 
whites and yelks w'ell beaten separately ; the yelks mixed with 
the milk and meal, and the whites added, the last thing. 
17* 



394 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Steamed Johnny-Cake. — One pint of sour cream, one tea- 
spoonful of soda, and one of salt. Stir in three table-spoonfuls of 
flour ; then add corn meal enough to make a stiff batter. Beat 
one egg, and add to the batter ; stir all carefully together, and 
pour into a well-buttered tin basin ; set this into a bread-steamer, 
and keep the steam up for an hour, or more if the loaf is large. 
Serve with cream and sugar. 

Corn-Meal Cake with Apples and Suet. — One pint scalded 
milk, or a half-cup cream, or a pint of sour milk, one teacupful 
suet chopped fine, a table-spoonful sugar, a teaspoonful salt, six 
good-sized sweet apples chopped fine, three eggs well beaten, and 
a small teaspoonful of soda. Beat thoroughly, and bake in a 
shallow tin pan. 

Muffins. — One pint of milk, one table-spoonful of butter, one 
pint of flour, a small teaspoonful of salt, three eggs, whites and 
yelks beaten separately and very stiff, a small even teaspoon- 
ful of soda ; add the whites last, beat smartly and perfectly free 
from lumps. Butter the griddle, and bake in well-buttered rings. 
"When the bottom is done, turn over the rings and bake the top, 
or put the rings on a well-buttered bake-pan and bake in a quick 
oven. We think them lighter and better so baked. 

Another Way. — One quarter of a pound of butter, one tea- 
spoonful salt, three eggs, one pint sweet milk, one quart flour, a 
heaping table-spoon of brewers' yeast, or two of home-made yeast. 
Melt the butter and put into the milk, beat the eggs and put them 
also into the milk, then stir in flour and add the yeast. If for 
breakfast, set them to rise overnight. If at all sour, add half- 
teaspoonful of soda. Bake in well-buttered rings in a quick oven. 

Cream MufBns. — One qiiart rich milk, or, if you can get it, 
half cream and half milk ; one quart of flour heaping, six eggs, one 
table-spoonful of butter, one of lard ; softened together. Beat 
whites and yelks separately very light ; then add flour and short- 
ening and a scant teaspoonful of salt, and stir in the flour the last 
thing, lightly as possible, and have the batter free from lumps. 
Half fill your Avell-buttered muffin-rings, and bake immediately 
in a hot oven, or your muffins will not be good. Send to table 
the moment they are done. 

Another Way. — One teacup sour cream, two eggs, one half- 



BREAKFAST AND TEA CAKES. 395 

teaspoonful of soda, thickened with flour about as stiff as waffles. 
Bake iu a quick oven. 

Raised Muffins. — One quart milk, a halfpenny's worth of 
bakers' yeast or half-cup of hojue-made yeast, two table-spoonfuls 
white sugar, one of butter (lard will answer, but is not as good), 
one teaspoonful of salt, two eggs well beaten, and flour sufficient 
to make a stiff batter. 

Make the batter overnight, leaving out tlie eggs. In the morn- 
ing beat the eggs, yelks and whites separately, very light, and 
stir into the well-risen batter. Have the muffin-rings well 
greased, fill half full with the batter, and bake twenty minutes 
in a quick oven. Serve hot. 

Hominy Muffins. — Wash a pint of small hominy through 
two or three waters, pour boiling water on it, cover, and let it 
soak for several hours. Then put it into a farina-kettle with half 
a pint of boiling water. Let it boil until soft enough to mash ; 
drain it and mix it well with a pint of white corn meal or wheat 
flour, a little salt, and a pint and one half of milk in which two 
table-spoonfuls of butter have been melted. When nearly cold, 
add four table-spoonfuls of yeast ; cover it, and set it in a warm 
place until very light, with the surface covered with bubbles. 
Butter some muffin-rings, set them on a hot griddle, pour into 
each a portion of the mixture, and bake them brown on both 
sides. Send them to table hot. 

Quick Muffins. — Two teacups buttermilk, one of thick cream, 
or, if none, three even table-spoonfuls of melted butter, four eggs, 
half a teaspoonful of soda ; thicken with prepared flour as thick 
as waffles. 

Graham Flour Muffins. — One pint of sour milk, a small 
teaspoonful of soda, one table-spoonful of sugar, and Graham flour 
sufficient to make a thick batter. Bake in rings, or drop the bat- 
ter in spoonfuls on a flat tin. Add a little salt before baking. 

Raised Waffles. — One pint of sweet milk, a heaping teacup 
of butter, three eggs (yelks and whites beaten separately), a table- 
spoonful of thick brewers' yeast or a halfpenny's worth of bakers', 
one quart of flour, one quarter of a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in 
one teacup of sweet milk ; beat all together, and let it rise till 
very light, and then bake. Serve hot, with butter and sugar, or 
plain, according to taste. 



396 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Corn-Meal Waffles. — Pour over one pint of com meal, hvice 
sifted, one pint of boiling milk. Put in one table-spoonful of but- 
ter, one of flour, and a teaspoonful of salt. Let this stand till 
cold ; then add half a teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in a little 
cold water ; the yelks of two eggs well beaten, the whites whisked 
very light and stiff to be added the last thing, when just ready to 
bake. 

Put a brown paper over bread, biscuit, or cake when first set 
into a hot oven, else the top will most likely brown and form a 
crust before they rise sufficiently, and thus make them tough or 
heavy. 

Buckwheat Cakes. — One quart of buckwheat flour, mix 
with lukewarm water rather thicker than you will wish it when 
ready to bake. A cup of Graham meal added is, we think, an 
improvement. Stir in half a cup of family yeast, or a halfpen- 
ny's worth of bakers', and a teaspoonful of salt ; mix in an earthen 
bowl or a large earthen pitcher, — the latter is the most conven- 
ient, as the batter can be poured from the lip of the pitcher more 
neatly than it can l)e dipped out of a bowl ; set it where it will 
keep warm all night. The batter should be made early in the 
evening, as it takes fully ten hours in winter to rise ; when 
ready to bake in the morning, beat half a teaspoonful of soda into 
a great spoonful of molasses, and stir into the batter, adding also 
enough lukewarm water to make it thm enough to fry ; bake 
quick ; the thinner the cakes can be baked the better they will be. 

Rice Griddle-Cakes. — Half a teacupful of whole rice, three 
eggs, half a pint of rich milk, and half a teaspoonful of salt. Cook 
the rice till every grain is dissolved and like jelly. Warm the 
milk a little, and beat the rice in it till it is smoothly mixed. 
When the eggs are beaten very light, add to the rice and milk ; 
then the salt. Bake on a hot, greased griddle till broT\Ti and light. 
If the batter does not adhere, add another egg, but no flour. 

Sour-Milk Griddle-Cakes. — Stir into one quart of sour 
milk enough flour to make the batter as thick as waffles ; add an 
even teaspoonful of salt and two well-beaten eggs. Dissolve an 
even teaspoonful of soda, and beat in when I'eady for frying. This 
is very good baked in waffle-irons. 

Green-Corn Fritters. — One pint grated corn, one small cup 



BREAKFAST AND TEA CAKES. 397 

butter, one egg, a te.aspooiiful salt, one table-spoonful flour, a little 
pepper. Drop on a buttered pan and bake or ivy ten minutes. 

Mock Oyster Fritters. — Grate one dozen raw ears of corn ; 
after grating, scrape or wring all the milk from the cob ; half a 
table-spoonful flour ; season with pepper and salt ; beat the yelks 
of three eggs very thick, and stir into the grated corn ; Avhisk the 
whites to a stiff froth, and add the last thing. Drop a dessert- 
sjioouful at a time on a hot, buttered griddle, and fry of a light 
brown on both sides. 

Corn Oysters. — One quart grated corn, three eggs well beaten, 
one small teaspoonful salt, and a little pepper, with just flour 
enough to make the* corn hold together. Drop from a spoon into 
hot butter, making cakes about the size of an oyster. Sour milk, 
with a half-teaspoonful of soda, will answer if eggs are not plenty. 

Rice Cakes. — One cup cold boiled rice rubbed into a quart 
of milk, one pint of flour, a teaspooirful of salt, two eggs beaten 
very light. Beat all free from lumps. Bake as soon as made, on 
a well-greased griddle. 

Rice or Hominy Cakes. — Warm one quart of sweet milk, 
and rub into it two cups of boiled rice or hominy ; throAV in a 
little salt, and add enough wheat flour to bind the rice, or to make 
the batter as thick as wafiles. Beat two eggs and add to the bat- 
ter, and half a teaspoonful of soda, unless you use the prepared 
flour. If you do, there will be no salt or soda needed. 

Rosie's Sally Lunn. — One spoonful of butter, one of sugar, 
one egg, one pint of milk, one quart of flour, with two teaspoon- 
fuls of cream of tartar sifted with the flour, and one teaspoonful 
of soda added the last thing. This is an excellent breakfast-cake, 
as well as tea-cake, and is sometimes varied by stirring in a pint 
of whortleberries. 

Stra-wberry Shortcake. — Rub into a pint and a half of 
Jewell's Prepared Flour one teacup of butter ; beat one egg very 
light ; add milk to make a soft dough ; divide in three parts ; 
roll out lightly, lay one portion on a pie-plate or tin, sprinkle a 
little flour on the top, then add the second cake, a little flour on 
the top of that, and cover with the third. Bake quickly, but not 
too brown. Let the benies stand with sugar sprinkled over them 
till the cake is baked, then pull the thin portions of cake apart ; 



398 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

spread half of the berries OA^er the bottom cake, adding more 
sugar and a little butter ; lay the second over them, and put on. 
the remainder of the berries with more sugar and butter, placing 
the top cake over all. Put it in the oven for a few minutes to 
heat through, and send to the table hot. 

When wishing an extra nice strawberry cake for tea, beat the 
whites of two eggs with a cup of white sugar till stiff, and add to 
it half of a grated cocoanut, and spread over the cake. If you 
have no prepared flour, sift two small teaspoonfuls of cream of 
tartar with the flour ; dissolve one small teaspoonful of soda in 
milk, and add the last thing before mixing the cake. 

Cream Toast. — Put a pint of rich, sweet cream over the stove 
in the farina-kettle, and while heating toast thin slices of stale 
bread quickly on both sides, taking care that they do not scorch. 
Wet two table-spoonfuls of flour in cold milk ; stir it smooth ; 
add a teaspoonful of salt, and when the cream is scalding hot, put 
in the flour, stirring all the time till it thickens ; then take the 
kettle from the fire. Have ready a dish of salt and water, hot, 
and dip each piece of the toasted bread into it, but only for a mo- 
ment. Eemove quickly to the toast-dish, and dij) over it a liberal 
supply of the thickened cream ; then cut more bread and lay into 
the dish, then more cream, till all is used, letting the cream be the 
last. If you have no cream, boil and thicken some sweet milk ; 
put in an even teaspoonful of salt, two table-spoonfuls of butter, 
and, when done, add one or two well-beaten eggs the last thing ; 
stir for a few minutes till well united with the boUing milk, and 
then pour over the bread. 

SOUPS. 

General Directions. — Before gi^ang some receipts for sorqos, 
we wish first to remind our young housekeepers that it is impor- 
tant for them to bear in mind the necessity and economy of keep- 
ing good stock constantly on hand. The French stock-pot is 
alwaj'^s in readiness to receive every bone, coarse or refuse bit 
of meat not suitable to use for the main dish or for side-dishes. 
"We understand that the French use earthenware for this purpose 
and also for " soup-digesters." It would be a benefaction if our 
house-furnishing merchants would import some of these "soup- 



SOUPS. 399 

digesters " and " stock-pots," as they are far Letter than metal. 
But until we can procure such, the stock, as last as made, should 
be strained into a large stone pot, and when cold, all the grease 
that rises and hardens on top must be removed, clarified, and set 
aside for cooking pm-poses. Aside from the economy of using all 
refuse meat and bones for stock, and the convenience of having 
it always ready for use, the soup will be better if the stock is 
made at least the day before, because one can then easily remove 
all the grease, — an important item in preparing good soups. 

Stock for Soups. — Buy a knuckle of beef or veal. Have 
the bone well cracked in small pieces. Put it in the soup-di- 
gester, or, if you have none, in a closely covered iron pot. For 
a medium-size piece, add five or six quarts of cold water (by using 
cold water you will secure all the juices, whereas in hot water 
half the juice is retained in the meat). Let it come to a boil be- 
fore you add salt or pejiper ; then season it to suit your taste, and 
if agreeable put in a small bit of red pepper. Set the kettle on 
the back part of the stove after it once commences to boil, and 
keep it gently simmering all day ; then strain it from the bones 
and meat, which are now worthless, into a pot kept for the pur- 
pose. Never throw away bones that are left from baked, boiled, 
or roast meat of any kind, or from steak, poultry, anything, (ex- 
cept those taken off the plates) ; dried or gristly bits of meat 
may also be used to prepare stock for soup ; and in a large family 
sufhcient can be gleaned that would otherwise be thrown into the 
swill to keep stock on hands for weeks, without buying a bone 
for that purpose alone. Whan the stock is strained off, set it in 
the cellar to cool. The next morning carefully remove all the 
grease that has risen to the top and hardened, and you will have a 
clear, rich stock ready for use. Clarify the grease removed from 
the stock by slicing a raw potato into it, and set it over the fire in 
a skillet till it laoils ; then strain it from the potato, and you have 
fine dripping for many purposes. 

Tomato Soup. — • Use stock from beef, ham, veal, or any other 
bones or refuse meat. Put two or three quarts into your soup- 
kettle, — the size of your family must determine the quantity, — 
cut in one carrot, one small onion, if agreeable, a little celery or 
fresh parsley ; add salt, pepper, and herbs to suit the taste, and 



400 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

tlien make the stock thick with tomatoes, — fresh from the \ine 
are much the best ; a si^oonful or two of star maccaroni is an im- 
provement, or rice or pearl barley, if you have either at hand. Let 
it boil two hours. 

Another. — Take bones or bits of meat left from any dish, 
and boil well to extract all nutriment, then strain ; or, if you 
have none on hand, make a rich stock, put in cabbage, caiTots, 
parsnips, or any other vegetables you like ; boil till well done, 
then add the tomatoes, — a dozen fresh, or half a can of winter 
tomatoes ; boil twenty minutes, then strain and serve hot. 

A Vegetable Soup. — Peel and slice six large onions and 
four turnips ; fry them in one quarter of a pound of butter, and 
then pour over them four quarts of boiUng water. Toast a good- 
sized crust of bread hard and brown (Ijut take care that it is not 
burned at all), and put into the soup, with a little celery ; sweet 
herbs, salt, and pepper to suit your taste. Stew gently four hours, 
stirring often to prevent it from scorching ; strain through a coarse 
cloth or strainer, when it has cooked the four hours. Have ready 
a little thinly sliced carrot, turnip, and celery, — a few slices of each 
will be sufficient, — put these into the soup after straining it ; 
return to the fire and stew till these last vegetables are tender. 
A spoonful or two of tomato catsup will improve it for some 
people. 

We have not tried this soup, but were told by an excellent 
housekeeper that it was capital. "VVe demurred at the quantity 
of tomato and onion, but judge the long time given to cook the 
soup may combine and incorporate the different flavors so as to 
make it quite palatable. 

Mock-Turtle Soup. — Take a calf's head dressed with the skin 
on, — the fresher the better. Take out and lay aside the brains. 
After washing it several times in a plentiful supply of cold water, 
soak in cold spring water. Then put it into your soup-kettle or 
digester, adding two quarts more of cold water than is needed to 
cover it, and place over the stove or range. There should be about 
two gallons of water in all. As it begins to heat, a large amount of 
scum will rise to the top. "Watch this carefully, and skim it off as 
fast as it rises. Let it ])oil one hour, or till the meat can be easily 
removed from the bone, when it should be taken from the liquor, 



SOUPS. 401 

and when nearly cold cut from the bones in neat pieces about an 
inch square. The tongue may be cut up in small pieces with the 
meat, or cut up and mixed with the brains for a side-dish. The 
skill of the head is the best part, and should be cut up carefully, 
leaving as much fat adhering to it as you can. As soon as the 
head is taken up, put to the broth in which it was boiled a five- 
pound knuckle of veal and the same anioimt of lean beef, adding 
all the bones and trimmings of the head ; a half-dozen cloves, a 
quarter of an ounce of allspice, and the same of whole black pep- 
per ; boil five hours, skim well, and keep closely covered. Then 
strain and set aside till morning, when all the fat must be re- 
moved, and two quarts of this stock reserved. Now put in a 
large saucepan, over the fire, half a pound of good fresh butter, 
six ounces of onions, sliced, quarter of an ounce of green sage, 
chopped. Let these fry one hour slowly. Be careful that it does 
not scorch. Then rub in half a pound of flour by degrees, gradu- 
ally adding the broth, till of the thickness of rich cream. Season 
with salt to your taste ; half an ounce of lemon-peel, grated. Let 
it simmer again gently an hour and a half, and strain through a 
hair-sieve or tamis. Don't rub the soup through the sieve, it Avill 
make it muddy. If it does not run through easily, knock a wood- 
en spoon against the side of the sieve ; that will start it through 
without the sediment, which would go through if rubbed. Put the 
stock, when strained, into a clean stew-pot with the pieces of the 
head ; and to each gallon of soup have a pint of nice claret, if j'ou 
wish it dark, madeira or sherry, if you prefer it light (those who 
object to wine or brandy in mince-'pies must be careful not to call 
for turtle or mock-turtle soup at restaurants), two table-spoonfuls 
of lemon-juice, and two of catsup, one of the essence of anchovy, 
a teaspoonful of curry-powder, or quarter of a drachm of cayenne. 
Let it simmer till the meat is tender, taking care that it is not 
done too much, and by frequent stirring prevent its sticking. 
When the meat is quite tender, serve the soup with force-meat, 
brain, or egg-balls. This should have been reduced by boiling to 
four or five quarts. 

Bean Soup. — Wash your beans and boil them with a piece 
of salt pork. When the beans are soft, take them out and pi'ess 
through a colander ; then put them back in the water they 

z 



402 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

were boiled in, together witli four hard-boiled eggs quartered, and 
half a lemon sliced, a little pepper, if you like it. Boil up and 
serve. This is liked by some better than when made with rich 
beef stock, with tomatoes or catsup for flavor. 

Soup -with Eggs. — Make a good stock from a knuckle of 
veal and any Ijones which may be on hand from baked or broiled 
beef or mutton. Add one turnip, two carrots, one onion, a little 
lemon-juice, a small sprinkling of thyme, and a little celery. Let 
it boil five or six hours, then strain, set it to cool, and, when cold, 
remove all the grease. When needed, heat it, add a little thick- 
ening of rolled cracker or flour, and to three quarts of this stock 
add the yelks of five or six eggs, one gill of cream, and pepper and 
salt to taste. Drop the yelks in whole, and let them cook a few 
minutes. Some like to drop them in just as the soup is dished. 
We do not think it so nice, but that is a matter of taste. 

Green Pea Soup. — Take two quarts of green peas, a quarter 
of a pound of butter, a quarter of a pound of ham cut very fine, 
two small onions, and a little parsley, and put it into a soup- 
digester or kettle ; add just a little water, enough to allow it to 
stew slowly, stirring it well together, and cover closely. When 
quite tender, add two quarts of veal, beef, or mutton broth, a 
great spoonful of sugar, and pepper and salt to season it to your 
taste. Let it boil up once, then rub through a hair-sieve into an- 
other kettle, and pour to it one pint of boiling milk ; boil five 
minutes and serve. 

Turtle Bean Soup. — Pick free from dirt and imperfect 
beans a pint and a half of turtle beans ; soak them overnight 
in a good quantity of cold water. In the morning drain off the 
water, and wash the beans in fresh water ; drain and put in the 
soup-digester, with four quarts of good strong stock from which 
all the fat has been carefully removed. Set it where it will boil 
steadily but slowly till dinner-time, — four hours at least, six is 
better. We always have ours put on as soon as the fire is kin- 
dled in the morning before breakfast. One small onion, a carrot, 
and two or three of the outside stalks of celery cut into the stock 
is considered an improvement by most persons. Stir it occasion- 
ally till the beans begin to soften, to prevent their sticking and 
burning at the bottom. Two hours before dinner put in half a 



SOUPS. 403 

can of tomatoes, or, in the season, eight or ten fresh ones, and a 
coft'ee-cup of tomato-catsup. When ready to dish, strain through 
a fine colander or coarse sieve, ruhbing through enough of the 
pulp of the beans to make it as thick as rich cream. Taste to see 
if there is plenty of salt and pepper, and send to the table hot. 
If you have any hard-boiled eggs left over, chop fine and put into 
the soup, after stiaining it, or, if eggs are plenty, boil three haid 
and add, cliopped fine. 

Nursery Soup (to be prepared the day before needing it). — 
Two pounds of sci'ag of mutton, or of the knuckle, put into two 
quarts of cold water ; add two or three sliced turnips, or two 
spoonfuls rice or pearl barley or star tapioca, whichever best suits 
the taste. Simmer slowly an hour and a half, then take out the 
meat and set aside ; pour the soup into a large bowl, and leave to 
cool till next day. In the morning skim off all the fat that has 
risen on the stock. An hoior before needed, turn the stock into 
a saucepan and bring it to a boil ; cut the meat from the bones in 
fine mouthfuls. Mince very fine a small onion, a little parsley 
and celery ; add a bit of butter the size of a nutmeg, one tal)le- 
spoonful browned flour ; burn an even table-spoonful of sugar in 
an iron spoon ; pour a little boiling water over it and stir it into 
the browned flour, then stir both into the soup ; add the other 
articles, and boil all together twenty minutes ; serve hot, with 
small bits of carefully toasted bread. This is called nursery soup, 
but it is not to be scorned by the old folks. 

Oyster and Clam Soup. — Fifty oysters, two bunches long 
clams ; drain all the liquor from the oysters into a farina-kettle, 
add a pint of milk, one and a half table-spoonfuls of butter, pepper 
and salt to suit the taste ; cut off the soft bodies of the clams and 
put with the oysters ; chop the tough, gristly parts very fine 
and put into the liquor ; when it boils, add the oysters and clams, 
with two table-spoonfuls of powdered cracker or the same of farina. 
Let all boil about five minutes, and send to table hot. This makes 
soup enough for six persons. 

Potato Soup. — Boil and mash jjotatoes ; about three pints 
when mashed, to three quarts of rich beef stock ; ready boiling ; 
add pepper and salt to taste ; stir gradually into the boiling stock, 
then pass all through a sieve and return to the soup-kettle ; sim- 



404 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

mer five minutes, and serve with fried bread ; or, if liked, a half- 
pint of peas Ijoiled soft, one onion, one head of celery, two sjioon- 
fuls of lice, may be put to the stock, well boiled, and the potatoes 
added when all are done ; then pass through the sieve, return to 
soup-kettle, simmer five minutes, and serve. 

FISH. 

To boil Fresh Fish. — Clean, Avash thoroughly, wipe dry, and 
then sew up in a cloth, kept solely for fish, and plunge at once 
into boiling water that has been first salted sufficiently. Sew the 
cloth up on the hack of the fish. Take it out when done, cut the 
threads down the back of the fish, and cut the skin of the fish so 
that in taking oft' the cloth, the skin will come oif with it, leaving 
the fish white and whole. Be careful not to break it, as it should 
come to the table in good condition. Eat with egg sauce or plain 
drawn butter. A fat shad is very nice boiled ; but most people 
prefer cod, rock-fish, or bass. 

Baked Salmon Trout, with Cream Gravy, — Wash and 
clean the fish carefully,wipe dry and lay in the bake- pan, with only 
enough water to keep from scorching. If very large, score the 
backbone a little, but do not cut the sides. Bake slowly, basting 
with butter and water, from three quarters of an hoiir to an hour, 
according to the size. Have ready a cup of rich cream, into which 
stir three or four table-spoonl'uls of boiling water, else the cream 
will clot when heated. Into this stir gently two table-spoonfuls of 
melted butter and a little chopped parsley. Put this into a milk- 
boiler or farina-kettle, or any vessel that you can set into another, 
half filled with boiling water, to prevent the sauce from burning. 
Add to the cream and butter the gravy from the dripping-pan in 
which the fish was baked. Lay the trout on a hot platter and 
let tlie gra^'y boil up once, and then pour over the fish. Garnish 
with sprigs of parsley, arranged neatly. Use no spiced sauces 
and very little salt. Serve hot. 

To fully appreciate the excellence of this fish with the cream 
sauce or gravy, one should be able to eat it a very short time 
after it is taken from the water, but the cream sauce is a great 
improvement to most baked fish. 

Boiled Salmon Trout. — Wash and dry the fish after clean- 



FISH. 405 

ing it ni(;ely. Wrap in a clean fish-cloth, lay it in a fish-kettle, 
cover with cold, salted water, and boil slowly from half to three 
quarters of an hour, according to the size of the fish. When done, 
take off the cloth gently, so as not to break the trout ; lay in a 
hot fish-platter and pour around it cream gravy like that used for 
baked salmon trout, and serve hot. 

All fish, boiled or baked, are improved by cream gravy. If 
you cannot obtain cream, use rich milk, and thicken it a little. 

Fried Halibut. — Have the slices seasoned some hours before 
frying, as it will be less liable to break in turning ; when ready 
to fry, dip it in egg beaten up, and roll it in bread crumbs ; then 
fry in hot lard, or have three or four slices of sweet salt pork fried 
till quite brown and crisp, and then fry the halibut in the hot 
lard which came from the pork. Dish it and lay the crisp brown 
pork around it. 

Fish Chowder. — Haddock and striped bass are generally 
considered the best fish for chowder. Cut the fish in pieces about 
one inch thick and two inches square. Cut five or six good 
slices of the best salt pork, lay them in the bottom of an iron pot 
and fry till cj'isped, but do not scorch ; take out the pork, leaving 
the fat ; chop the pork in small pieces ; put into the pot a layer 
of fish, a layer of split crackers and some of the chopped pork ; a 
little red and black pepper ; a little chopped onion ; then another 
layer of fish, split crackers, and seasoning, and so on till all the 
fish is used. Then just cover all with water, and stew slowly till 
tender. Thicken the gravy with cracker crumbs and catsup if 
you like. Take out the fish, boil up the gravy once, squeeze in 
the juice of a lemon, and pour the gravy over the fish. Add salt 
if necessary. 

To prepare and dress Cold Fish. — Cut cold boiled fish into 
pieces about an inch long. Do not chop it. Take the yelks of 
four eggs, hard boiled, and rub them to a smooth paste with a few 
spoonfuls of salad oil or melted butter. Add a little salt, pepper, 
and mustard, — the exact amount must be decided by your own 
taste and knowledge of how highly seasoned your family like 
their food. Add two teaspoonfuls of white sugar ; rub all in 
with the i"iaste, and the last thing after getting the paste perfectly 
smooth put in six table-spoonfuls of vinegar. Beat the mixture 



400 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

till very light, and just before pouring it over the fish beat the 
whites of two eggs to a stiff froth and stir in with it. Stir half 
the dressing into the picked-up fish. Serve in a glass dish, and 
spread the other half of the dressing over the top. Garnish with 
delicate leaves of lettuce, to be eaten with it. 

Newport Fish Pudding. — Pick any cold fish left from the 
dinner into fine bits, carefully removing all the bones. Thicken 
some boiling milk with flour, wet to a batter with cold milk, and 
stir the fish into it ; season with pepper, butter, and salt. Put it 
into a pudding-dish, and spread cracker or bread crumbs thickly 
over the top to prevent the milk from scorching, and set into the 
oven to bake just long enough to brown nicely. A good Avay to 
use up cold fish, maldng a nice breakfast or a side-dish for dinner. 

Fish-Balls. — Salt codfish is usually preferred for making fish- 
balls, although any fresh boiled fish left over from dinner is very 
nice. When the salt cod is used, it should be put in a damp 
place for a day or two before using, to soften. Early in the 
evening, before needed, it should be thoroughly washed in sev- 
eral waters, rubbing it well, then put to soak in a large quantity 
of lukewarm water. Just before bedtime pour off the first water, 
and add more lukewarm water ; wash again in clean water in 
the morning, rubbing off all the salt crystal that may adhere, 
particularly on the under side, and place over the fire, in enough 
warm water to fully cover it. Let it come to the boiling-pohit 
slowly, but don't let it really boil ; keep it simmering a half- 
hour. If the fish is very salt, turn off this water and cover again 
with boiling water, and let it simmer fifteen or twenty minutes, 
then drain and spread it out to cool ; remove every bone and bit 
of skin, and when perfectly cold pick to pieces very fine with a 
fork. While the fish is cooling have nice mealy potatoes boiling 
over the fire ; when done, mash smooth and light, and add to the 
picked-up fish a little more than its weight of potatoes, say a 
pound and a quarter of potatoes to a pound of fish. For a dozen 
balls add one well-beaten egg, or two if plenty, or two table-spoon- 
fuls of rich cream, two spoonfuls of butter ; beat all together and 
form into neat balls "with your hands — which should be well 
floured — and drop them into a kettle or large saucepan of boil- 
ing lard or drippings, and fry a good clear brown. Plainer fish- 



FISH, 407 

balls may be made if desirable, omitting eggs and cream, and 
using less butter. 

Codfish Balls. — Soak in warm water as much salt codfish 
as is needed, judging by the size of the family. Let it stand in 
the water all night. In the morning pick out all the bones, 
press out the water, and choj) fine. Boil the potatoes in the skin. 
When done, peel and mash while hot twice as much potato as 
you have fish ; mix well together and moisten with cream or a 
little new milk, with a great spoonful of butter. Have some 
well-clarified drippings or sweet lard ready in a saucepan. Let 
it get boiling hot, and then put in the fish-balls. They should 
be made a little more than half an inch thick. Fry a good, clear 
brown,* taking care not to scorch them. One egg well beaten is 
an improvement. 

Scalloped Crabs. — Wash the crabs and put into a kettle of 
boiling A\ater, throw in a handful of salt. Boil from twenty min- 
utes to half an hour. Take them from the water when done, and 
pick out all the meat ; be careful and not break the shell. To a 
pint of meat put a little salt and pepper ; we cannot give the 
' exact amount, as tastes differ so widely ; but taste, and if there 
is not enough add more, a little at a time till suited. Grate 
in a very little nutmeg, and add one spoonful cracker or bread 
crumbs, two eggs well beaten, and two table-spoonfuls of butter 
(even full) ; stir all well together ; wash the shells clean and fill 
each shell full of the mixture ; sprinkle crumbs over the top and 
set in the oven till of a nice brown ; a few minutes will do it. 
Send to the table hot. 

Oyster Pie. — Line a deep dish with good puff paste, not too 
rich. Roll out the upper crust, and lay on a plate just the size 
of the oyster-dish ; set it on the top of the dish and put into the 
oven, as the crust must be nearly cooked before the 03'sters are 
put in, for they require less time than the crust. While the crust 
is bakmg, strain the liquor from the oysters ; thicken it with the 
yelks of eggs, boiled hard and grated, — three eggs for seventy- 
five oysters ; add two even table-spoonfuls of butter, and the 
same quantity of bread or cracker crumbs ; season with pepper, 
salt, and mace or nutmeg, — a very little of either, — and by 
tasting, be sure that you do not season it too much ; to add is 



408 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

very easy, but to take out seasoning in cooking is a difficult task. 
Let the liquor just boil ; then slip in the oysters, and as soon as 
they come to a boil, stir well and remove the plate with top crust, 
and pour them and their gravy into the hot bake-dish ; place the 
top crust over, and return to the oven for five minutes. Send to 
the table hot. 

Oyster Fritters. — Drain off the liquor and wipe the oysters 
dry ; season with a little pepper and salt, if not salt enough. 
Make a batter with a pint of milk and flour enough to mix not 
very stiff. Beat the yelks of three eggs thoroughly, and put to 
the batter, beating all a good deal. Whisk the whites to a stiff, 
dry froth, and stir in gently the last thing. Take up a spoonful 
of batter on a spoon, lay an oyster on top, and cover Avith a little 
more batter, and with a broad knife slip this off gently into a pan 
of boiling lard. When brown on both sides, drain on a perforated 
plate, and send to the table hot. 

To Fry Oysters. — Take from the shells carefully so as not to 
tear or break them ; dry in a clean fish-cloth ; beat the yelks of 
eggs with thick cream, — one yelk to two table-spoonfuls of cream ; 
rub together some bread or cracker crumbs, a little salt and cay- • 
enne pepper. Have half a pound of butter boiling hot in a skil- 
let ; dip each oyster in the beaten yelks and cream ; then roll in 
the cracker crumbs, taking pains to have the crumbs adhere 
thickly to the oyster. Drop into the skillet, and fry of a light 
broAvn on each side. They should be crisp and light. Drain free 
from all grease, and serve hot. 

Lobster Fatties. — Boil two or three good lobsters ; take out 
all the meat, and chop very fine ; mash the coral smooth, and 
mix with the meat. Boil three or four eggs hard, and grate the 
yelks, mashing or rolling the whites to make them heavy and 
waxy. Season the whole with salt, cayenne, a very little pounded 
mace or. nutmeg, and a small portion of lemon-rind, grated. 
Moisten the whole with cream, fresh butter, or salad-oil. (Be 
careful that you do not use too much of any of these seasonings. 
It will make the whole bitter. In all of these strong flavors, 
only just an intimation that they are present is necessary.) Put 
it into a stew-pan, add a little water, put over the fire till it 
just comes to a boil ; then remove from the fire. Make puflf 



FISH. 409 

paste, and line deep patty-pans. Bake the paste before iilling, 
while prei)anng the lobster. As soon as the lobster has been re- 
moved from the fire, and is partially cooled, take the crust from 
the oven and fill the patty-pans with the mixture to the top. 
Crabs or prawns may be made into' patties in a similar manner. 

Lobster Rissoles. — Boil the lobster, take out the meat, 
mince it fine ; pound the coral smooth, and grate the yelks of 
three hard-boiled eggs for one lobster. Season with cayenne 
pepper, a little nutmeg, and salt. Make a batter of milk, flour, 
and well-beaten eggs, — two table-spoonfuls of milk and one of 
flour to each egg. Beat this batter well, and mix the lobster 
with it gradually, till it is stifl" enough to roll into balls the size of 
a large plum. Fry in fresh butter, or the best salad-oil, and ser\'e 
up either warm or cold. Similar rissoles may be made of raw oys- 
ters minced fine, or of boiled clams. These should be fried in lard. 

Fish Sauce. — Four ounces of butter blended with three table- 
spoonfuls ul' flour ; stir in gradually half a pint of boiling water, 
stirring all the time. When smooth, put it into a farina-kettle or 
milk-boiler, and let boil five minutes. If too thick, add a little 
more Avater. Beat two eggs to a foam, and stir in the last thing 
before removing it from the fire. A little parsley chopped fine 
added to this sauce, or an onion, is relished by some. 

A good Breakfast Dish. — When any boiled fresh fish is 
left from dinner, take out all the bones carefully, and pick the 
fish up in small bits. Cover the bottom of a deep dish with some 
of the fish, and, if needed, a little pepper and salt, and a few 
spoonfuls of the fish sauce, if any was left from dinner ; then 
sprinkle over some fine bread crumbs ; then another layer of fish, 
with sauce ; then bread crumbs, until the dish is full. If all the 
fish sauce is used without making the composition quite moist, 
beat two eggs very light, and add a cup of milk and pour over 
the whole ; then cover with more bread crumbs, and set in the 
oven long enough to heat through and brown delicately. If no 
fish sauce is left over, take two great spooonfuls of butter, cut in 
little bits, and lay in alternately with the fish and crumbs ; use 
four eggs instead of two, and a pint of milk. 

Best Mode of Roasting Fish, Ducks, Ac — The very best 
way of cooking fish and fowl ever devised is familiar to woodmen, 
18 



410 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS, 

but unknown to city epicures. It is this : Take a large fish, — 
say a trout of three or four pounds, fresh from its gambols in the 
cool stream, — cut a small hole in the neck and abstract the in- 
testines. Wash the inside clean, and season it with pepper and 
salt ; or, if convenient, fill it with bread crumbs or crackers chopped 
up with meat. Make a fire outside the tent, and when it has 
burned down to embers, rake it open, put in the fish, and cover 
it with coals and hot ashes. Within an hour take it from its bed, 
peel off the skin from the clean flesh, and you will have a trout 
with all its original juices and flavors preserved within it, — a 
dish too good, as Izaak Walton would say, "for any but very 
honest men." 

Grouse, ducks, and various other fowls can be cooked deli- 
ciously in a similar way. The intestines of the bird should be . 
taken out by a small hole at the vent, and the inside washed and 
stuffed as before. Then wet the feathers thoroughly, and cover 
with hot embers. When the cooking is finished, peel off the burnt 
feathers and skin, and you will find underneath a lump of nice 
juicy flesh, which, when once tasted, will never be forgotten. 
The peculiar advantage of this method of roasting is that the 
covering of embers prevents the escape of juices by evaporation. 
This comes from the " Trappers' Guide," and we know it is good. 

MEATS. 

BEEF. 

Leicestershire Hunting Beef. — Take four ounces saltpetre 
or one of allspice. Rub it over a nice round of beef very thor- 
oughly. Let it stand twenty-four hours, then rub it in as much 
common salt as will be needed to salt it to suit your taste. Keep 
it in a cool place twelve days, turning it every day, then put it into 
a deep pan and cover it, upper and under side, with three pounds 
of beef suet. Then cover with a thick paste, and bake slowly for 
six hours. It will keep for six months, and is highly spoken of 
by English people. We have never tried it, but by request give 
the receipt, which we have had for a long time in our possession. 

Spiced Beef. — Boil a shin of ten or twelve pounds of beef 
until the meat readily falls from the bone. Pick the meat to 



BEEF. 411 

pieces and mash the gristle veiy fine, rejecting all parts that are 
too hard to mash. Set the liquor in which it was boiled away 
till cool, then take off all the fat. Boil the liquor down to a pint 
and a lialf ; then return the meat to the liquor, and, while hot, 
add any salt and pepper that may be needed, a half-teaspoonful 
of cloves, the same of cinnamon, a little nutmeg, a half-spoonful 
of parsley chopped fine, a very little sage and summer savory, if 
agreeable, not quite half a salt-spoonful. Let it boil up once, and 
put it into a mold or deep dish to cool. Cut in thm slices for 
breakfast or tea. 

Curried Beef. — In reply to inquiries how to use '^ curry pow- 
der," we give the following : Put in a saucepan over the fire two 
table-spoonfuls of butter, and, when hot, put in two small onions, 
sliced very thin ; fry until brown ; then add a table-spoonful and 
a half of curry powder, mixing all well together. Take three 
pounds of the best of a round of beef; cut in pieces an inch 
square ; pour over it the milk of a cocoanut, and a quarter of the 
meat of the nut grated very fine and squeezed through muslin ; 
moisten with a little water, — only enough to make it pass through 
the muslin easily. The cocoanut meat and milk soften the taste 
of the curry, and no curry is ever made in India without it. If 
this does not make liquor enough, add half a teacup boiling water, 
and let the whole simmer for thirty minutes. Serve hot, in a dish 
with sliced lemon, and a waU of mashed potatoes or boiled rice 
around it. 

Meat Pie. — Cut up some pieces of good, tender raw beef or 
mutton, season with pepper, salt, and, if liked, one finely minced 
onion. Boil a half-dozen good-sized mealy potatoes, mash smooth 
and wet with enough milk to form a dough to make the crast ; 
salt to please the taste ; roll out full half an inch thick, and line 
a buttered dish large enough to hold the meat. Lay in the meat, 
add a teacup of water, or less if the pie is to be for a small family, 
then roll out a thick crust of the potato, covering the top of the 
pie at least an inch thick, and bake about an hour and a half. 

Beef CoUops. — Cut the fillet from the under part of a rump 
of beef into thin slices ; broil quickly until nearly done, then put 
into a stewpan with a little beef-stock ; add two or three slices 
of lemon or pickled cucumber and two table-spoonfuls of catsup, 



412 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

and stew till tender. Half a pint of oysters added ten minutes 
before it is done is a great improvement. 

To Cook a Beefsteak. — Put a frying-pan over the stove till 
it becomes quite bot. Have your steak well pounded or man- 
gled, — a siaioin steak is very good for this purpose, — lay it on 
the hot, dry pan and cover it instantly as tightly as possible. 
"When the meat touches the heatad pan it will seethe and adhere 
to it, but in a few seconds it will become loosened and juicy ; 
turn the steak every half-minute, but be careful to do it as tj^uickly 
as possible, so that it may not be long uncovered. When nearly 
done, sprinkle on pepper and salt, lay a small piece of butter on 
the steak, and add a table-spoonful of strong coffee. This makes 
a delicious broiled steak. Or, if you wish much gravy, shake a 
little flour over the steak when just done, and pour in three or 
four table-spoonfuls of cream, let it just boil up, under cover, and 
when the meat is done, take the pan from the fire, remove the 
meat, stir in quickly the well-beaten yelk of an egg, and serve hot. 
If cream is used, omit the coffee. Mutton or ham may be cooked 
in the same way, only they should be over the fire longer than beef. 

Rump Steak, with Oyster Sauce. — Broil the steak nicely ; 
put four even table-spoonfuls of butter into a frying-pan, add pep- 
per and salt'to your taste ; shake in a table-spoonful of flour, and 
add the juice of half a lemon ; when it begins to boil up, put in 
as many oysters as can be used in this preparation ; let them heat 
through and just boil up once, taking care to shake the pan and 
keep its contents stirring all the time it is over the fire. When 
the oysters are done, — a pint to one steak is about the right 
quantity, — pour all over the steak, and serve. 

A French Broil. — Select a spider or saucepan with a smooth, 
clean bottom, set it over the range or stove till really hot, then lay 
on a good tenderloin or sirloin steak ; keep the spider very hot, 
and turn the steak as often, as every two minutes, — no longer ; 
when half done, sprinkle over salt and pepper to suit the taste of 
those who are to eat it ; continue to turn the steak often till suffi- 
ciently done ; just as you are ready to take up and dish the steak, 
dust a little flour over it, spi;ead on a table-spoonful of butter, or, 
if a large steak, a little more ; turn it over, dust on more flour, 
and spread on the butter as on the first side ; turn again, set the 



BEEF, 413 

saucepan back from the hot fire, take the steak on to the phittcr, 
and set in a heater or oven to keep liot, but not to cook any more ; 
sliake more tiour into the butter in the saucepan, set a^ain over 
tlie fire, and as soon as the butter bubbles up through the flour, 
rub it smooth with a spoon and pour in a few spoonfuls of l)oil- 
iiig water ; stir constantly, and as soon as it thickens, pour over 
the steak, and serve hot. 

Beefsteak Rolls. — Cut small, thin steaks from the round ; 
fry them slightly ; make a stuffing as for roast veal or turkey ; 
spread it over the steaks, roll them up tightly, and sew or tie up 
neatly. Stew them in rich beef stock or brown gravy twenty 
minutes, and serve hot, with the gravy poured over. A half-tea- 
cup of rich cream added a few minutes before serving is a great 
improvement. 

Beef Croquettes. — Chop cold roast beef or veal with one 
onion very fine ; add a little sweet-marjoraiu, half a teaspoonful of 
powdered cloves, and as much salt and pepper as will be palatable. 
Moisten with a rich beef gravy, from which all the fat has cooled 
and been removed. Roll into balls, dip in beaten eggs, roll in 
iiour, or In'ead or cracker crumbs, and fry in good, sweet lard. 

Mock Duck. — Pi'epare a good dressing, such as you like for 
turkey or duck ; take a round steak, pound it, but not very hard, 
spread the dressing over it, sprinkle in a little salt, pepper, and a 
few bits of butter, lap over the ends, roll the steak up tight and 
tie it closely ; spread two great spoonfuls of butter over the steak 
after rolling it up, then wash with a well-beaten egg, put water in 
the bake-pan, lay in the steak so as not to touch the water, and 
bake as you would a duck, basting often. A half-hour in a brisk 
oven will cook it. Make a brown grav}^, and send to table hot. 

A Nice Breakfast Dish, — Grate some cold tongue or beef, 
put it into a stewpan with a little pepper and salt, and four table- 
spoonfuls of cream or milk ; when quite hot, put in four well- 
beaten eggs ; stir all the time till the mixture is quite thick ; 
have ready some nicely toasted bread, well buttered, and spread 
the tongue or beef over it ; send to table hot. 

Mock Venison. — Cut a nice piece of corned beef in thin slices 
and soak three or four hours in tepid water, changing the water 
often. Be siu-e and have plenty of water to soak it in. When 



414 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

sufficiently freshened, drain, wipe dry, put on a hot gridiron, and 
broil quickly, turning often, only enough to be fully hot through. 
Make a gravy of drawn butter, add a little pepper, taste before 
adding salt ; chop fine the yelk of an egg boiled hard, and, if 
agreeable, a little boiled onion, and pour over it ; or simply but- 
ter, pepper, and a little salt, as for beefsteak. This is an excel- 
lent dish when so situated as to have little opportunity for fresh 
meat, but a fresh beefsteak thus seasoned is better. 

To prepare Cold Roast Beef or Mutton. — Cut off the 
meat as thin as possible ; dip each slice in flour ; coA^er the bot- 
tom of a deep dish with a layer of meat thus prepared ; dust over 
it a little pej)per, salt, sage, and sweet marjoram, — very little of 
each ; add another layer of the meat dipped in flour and seasoned 
in the same way. Continue this till the dish is half full, then 
pour over it what gravy was left, being careful to remove every 
particle of fat. If not gravy enough, substitute water. Turn in 
half a teacup of catsup, or half a pint of tomatoes, adding a little 
clove or allspice. Add water enough t« fill it nearly full, fit a 
plate tightly over it to keep in the flavor, and bake two hours. 
Boil some potatoes and mash them, adding a little salt, butter, 
and milk. Make it into a high wall around the edge of a well- 
heated platter ; beat up an egg and brush over the potatoes, and 
when the meat is done, turn it into the platter ; slip it again into 
the oven, to remain long enough to brown the potatoes a fine 
golden brown. The poorest and toughest parts of uncooked beef 
may be made deliciously tender if prepared in this manner, but 
it must be in the oven one hour longer. 

Economical Breakfast Dish. — If you have a few bits of 
meat or two or three cold potatoes left over, put some " drip- 
pings " into a skiUet ; slice the potatoes thin, cut the meat up 
fine, and add salt and pepper to taste ; then beat two or three 
eggs, according to the size of the dish to be prepared ; stir them 
into a cup of cream or milk, and pour over the meat and potatoes. 
If eggs are not plenty, use fewer eggs and more milk or cream. 
If milk, add a half table-spoonful of butter. Keep it over the fire, 
stirring constantly, till the eggs are cooked. It takes but a few 
moments to prepare this ; but do not leave it an instant till done, 
or the eggs will burn and ruin the whole. 



MUTTON AND LAMB. 415 

A " Two Story." — A genuine farmer's dish, but fit to set 
before a king, — so we are assured by one who knows. 

Peel and slice thin potatoes and onions (five potatoes to one 
small onion) ; cut half a pound of sweet salt pork in thin slices 
to a pound of beef, mutton, or veal ; cut the meat in small pieces ; 
take some nice bread dough and shorten a little, and line the bot- 
tom of the stewpan with slices of pork ; then a layer of meat, 
potatoes, and onions ; dust over a little pepper, and cover with a 
layer of crust ; then more pork, meat, and vegetables ; then more 
crust. Repeat this till the stew-pot is full, ■ — the size of the pot 
will depend on the number of the family ; pour in sufficient water 
to cover ; finish with crust. Let it simmer till meat, vegetables, 
etc., are done, but do not let it boil hard. Serve hot. 

MUTTON AND LAMB. 

Shoulder of Mutton Boiled. — All mutton should hang in 
a cool place till quite tender before being used, but be careful that 
it does not hang long enough to acquire the least rust or taint. 
When the shoulder has hung till tender, bone it ; rub a little salt 
over it, and let it lie in a deep dish for two days, turning it over 
each day and rubbing in a little more salt, — half a table-spoonful 
each time. Meat to boil requires more salt than for roasting. On 
the third day, sprinkle over the inside one teaspoonful of pepper 
and half a teaspoonful of powdered mace. Spread twenty oysters 
over the inside ; roll the meat wp tightly and tie securely ; put it 
into the steAvjian or boiler with just enough boiling water to cover 
it ; throw in six peppercorns, or seeds of the red pepper, and one 
onion chopped ; shut the cover over very closely, and stew ; 
twenty minutes' cooking for each pound of meat is the proper 
time. Stew twenty-four oysters in a pint of good stock or gravy ; 
add a table-spoonful of butter and enough flour to thicken it. 
When the meat is done, lay it in a good-sized platter and pour 
the gravy over it. 

Shoulder of Mutton Spiced. — Bone carefully a shoulder 
of mutton, after it has hung till tender. For every pound of 
meat mix two ounces of brown sugar, one salt-spoonful of cloves, 
one teaspoonful each of mace and pepper, and half a salt-spoonful 
of ginger ; rub these spices thoroughly into the meat ; lay it into 



416 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

a deep dish, and the next day rub in two teaspoonfuls of salt 
for every pound of meat, and add one pint and a half of good 
beef gravy for the whole joint. Turn the meat over ; rub it well 
Avith this pickle every day for a week or ten days, letting it re- 
main in the pickle all the time after each rubbing. At the end 
of the week or ten days, roll it up tightly, bind with a string, and 
stew gently in beef broth four hours. Serve hot in its own gravy, 
and eat with any piquant sauce or catsup. 

Mutton Stew. — Take such scraps of mutton or lamb as are 
not fit for chops or cutlets ; just cover with water ; add a little 
onion and parsley, if not disagreeable, and season well with black 
and red pepper ; boil two eggs hard, or, if making a good-sized 
stew, use more (two are plenty for five persons) ; mash or grate 
the yelks fine, and stir them into a table-spoonful of butter and 
the same amount of browned flour. Stir this into the stew just 
before dishing, to season and thicken the gravy. Let it boil up 
once after adding this, and serve as soon as it thickens. 

Roasting a Leg of Lamb. — • Slice salt pork very thin, cutting 
two slices down to the rind, leaving the rind on to make the 
piece as large as possible ; make as many of these thin slices as 
will cover the whole leg ; then wrap the whole in grape-leaves ; 
pass a string round to keep them on, and roast. It is said the 
lamb will be exceedingly juicy and of delicious flavor. Never 
baste meat with, butter, but with rich soup stock. 

To use Cold Lamb. — When lamb or mutton is left in good 
shape, — and it is the fault of the carver if it is not always left 
neatly, — cut off some chops ; trim off the greater portion of fat, 
and saw or cut off the end of the bone. Heat a platter, and pour 
into the centre some nicely cooked fresh green peas, or in winter 
canned peas. Heap them in the centre in the shape of a pyra- 
mid ; brown the chops quickly over a bright fire, season in a hot 
plate with pepper, salt, and butter, and then arrange them around 
the peas, the small end laid upon the pj^ramid of peas. Garnish 
the edge of the dish with slices of hard-boiled eggs, each circled 
in a fringe of curled parsley. Serve hot. 

Mint Sauce. — Three table-spoonfuls of fresh mint finely 
chopped, five table-spoonfuls of vinegar and two of sugar, dis- 
solved in the vinegar. To be used with roast lamb or chops. 



VENISON. 417 

If so miKh vinegar is disagreeable, use one third water and a 
little more sugar. 

VENISON. 

Jerked Venison. — Take the haunches when the deer is first 
Icilled ; rub in as much salt as you can ; press and squeeze the 
meat hard Avith your hands to get out all the blood ; then hang 
it up in some covered alley or shed, where the sun will not di- 
rectly strike it, but where the dry breezes will sweep over it. If 
not quite salt enough the next day, rub more salt on ; sf^ueeze 
and press out all the blood which may still remain, and hang up 
again. Two or three days will dry it. When needed, cut off 
nice slices, rather thin ; lay them in a dish of cold water a short 
time to soften a little, then broil, serving with pepper and salt. 
Or, fry a piece of bacon crisp ; then lay the pieces of venison into 
the hot fat, and warm through quickly ; shake a little flour over 
the meat, and when done salt and jjepper ; place the meat on a 
hot platter ; sift a little more flour mto the pan ; let it boil up ; 
add a few spoonfuls of boiling water ; boil up again, and pour the 
brown gravy over the venison. It is very sweet and palatable. 

In Florida, beef is also cured, or dried, so as to keep for several 
days. Cellars or ice-houses not being common, it is necessary to 
resort to some means of keeping it. Take a fine round of beef, 
and cut in slices as large as your hand and about half an inch 
thick. String them on a strong cord, and hang up high in some 
place where the sun will not shine directly on it, but where a good 
breeze of hot aii' will pass over it. Build a fire of dry leaves or 
bits of paper, and place at one end of the place where the meat 
is hung, so that the wind will take the smoke under and over it ; 
this will keep the flies away till the oiitside of the meat is too dry 
for them to injure it. A day or two in the dry breezes here will 
cure it, so that it may be put in paper bags and kept in a dark, 
dry place several days, to broil as it is needed. It is wonderfully 
sweet, probably because in drying all the juices of the meat are 
secured. Our Northern aii- is not so drying, but we see no reason 
why, in summer, those who have not smoke or ice houses could not 
hang meat under the trees, away from the sun, keeping up a smoke 
sufficient to drive away flies but not strong enough to heat the meat. 
It is an experiment well worth tr}'ing. 

18* A A 



418 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Venison Steaks. — Heat the gridiron, grease it well. Lay on 
the steak ; broil quickly, without scorchiug, turning it two or 
three times ; season with salt and pepper. Have the butter 
melted in a well-heated platter, into which the steak must be 
laid hot from the gridiron, turning it over two or three times in 
the butter, and send to table hot. It is well to set the platter into 
another in which you have some boiling water. Venison should 
not be overdone, and must be eaten hot. 

COOKING IN A " RUMFORD BOILER." 

In one of our " talks " in Part First we said something of the 
Eumford Boiler. We subjoin here a few hints as to the use of 
it. Other similar " boilers " or " steamers " or " cookers " can also 
be advantageously used. The " Rumford " happens to be the one 
Ave have used and thoroughly like. 

To Roast Beef or Mutton. — Have boiling water two or 
three inches deep in the lower part of the boiler, deep enough to 
just touch the bottom of the pan to be set over it. Place the 
meat in the inner pan without water, first seasoning it Avith salt 
and pepper, if agreeable. Put on the cover, fitting it in tightly. 

When the Avater begins to boil, set the boiler back on the stove 
or range, Avhere it Avill keep just at the boiling point, and let it 
remain cooking the usual time, — fifteen minutes for each pound 
is generally thought long enough. When done take it out, 
dredge Avith flour and put into a quick oven to broAvn, but not 
scorch. 

It is usually estimated that one pint of gravy is lost AA'hen 
meat is boiled the usual way. Here you have it all saved in the 
dish, the pure juice of the meat making excellent gravy. 

To Boil a Leg of Lamb or Mutton. — Keep in the boiler 
the ordinary length of time, with no Avater in the receiver or pan 
(Avhich in all cases should be tightly closed), and send to the table 
Avithout browning. 

Corned Beef. — If very salt, the beef should be soaked in cold 
water three or four hours ; then put it in the inner A'^essel with 
cold Avater enough to coA^er it. Keep the Avater in the bottom re- 
ceiver boiling sloAvly till the beef is done. Salt meat needs to be 
cooked longer than fresh ; fifteen minutes to a pound for fresh, 



RUMFORD BOILER COOKING. 419 

and twenty minutes for salt, is the rule usually given, but we have 
not found the latter long enough. A piece weighing nine pounds 
should cook four hours, if without much bone, and three with 
bone. We think that better — more sure — than twenty minutes 
to a pound. 

The water in which salt meat is thus cooked makes excellent 
stock for soup. If too salt (it should not be if the beef was 
properly freshened), add water sufhcient to make it right. 

To Cook a Ham. — Freshen the ham by soaking in cold 
water three or four hours, then scrape clean and wipe dry. 
Stick a few cloves into it, rub on a half-cup of sugar, and put 
in the inner vessel vdthoiU aitij water ; cover closely, and set over 
the boiling water in the bottom of the boiler ; bring to a boil, 
and then set back a little that it may cook slowly till tender, 
about four hours. This will be found very excellent in flavor, 
far surpassing ham boiled in the common way. If liked, when 
done, the ham may be set in a quick oven and delicately browned, 
like roast beef or mutton. 

Fish. — Season a fresh fish with salt, pepper, and a table-spoon- 
ful of butter, and put in the receiver, or inner pan, without any 
ivater; cover closely, and cook for half an hour. Thicken the juices 
of the fish which will be found in the pan with a little flour, wet in 
cold water, and let it simmer a few minutes in the pan, closely 
covered. This makes an excellent sauce for the fish. 

Steaks of cod, salmon, halibut, or any other fish, usually fried, 
are excellent cooked in this " Kumford Boiler," and need no 
butter or sauce besides the juice which will be left in the vessel, 
and pepper and salt. 

We have tried all these receipts since we possessed this excel- 
lent boiler, and can testify to the superiority of each dish over 
that cooked in the usual way. 

We have cooked all our vegetables — corn, peas, beets, potatoes 
— in the pans that are made to fit over the first vessel with tight 
covers, and are greatly pleased with the improvement. It must 
be remembered that each vessel should be closely covered, and 
over all the cover for the whole boiler. Bread of all kinds and 
loaf cake are delicious cooked in a " Rimiford," and when done 
put into the oven to broMTi. 



420 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 



Meats for June. — It is more difficult to obtain good meats 
in June than any part of the year. Lamb is still quite expen- 
sive, and " broilers " or spring chickens are dear and very little 
of them. What you can manage to pick off is dry, stringy, and, 
we cannot but think, indigestible. Veal is the only meat within 
the reach of all classes : but be very sure that you obtain that 
which has been healthily fed, and butchered as humanely as is 
possible. It is well that we do not see or know all the barbarity 
of the butchers' shops, or we should perforce become vegetari- 
ans. There are many ways of using the less desirable portions of 
veal, that when properly carried out make some very inviting 
breakfast or tea dishes. 

Calf's Head and Harslet. — The head to be sj^lit open, the 
grease screened off, and eyes taken out, before bringing from the 
butcher's. "Wash very carefully, and scrape thoroughly. Take 
out the brains and put into a bowl of cold water ; also lay 
the head, when cleaned, into a large pan of water. Then see 
that the harslet is well cleaned ; leave the windpipe on the 
lights, and let all soak in cold water, and plenty of it, for half 
an hour. Have a large pot of boiling water ready. Two hours 
before dinner put in the heart and lights, leaving the windpipe 
a little way out of the pot to carry off the scum that will rise 
while boiling. Put in salt, black and red pepper, — very little of 
the latter, — and a little thyme and parsley. One hour after put 
in the liver ; skim often. When the brains have soaked till free 
from blood, pick out all the veins or fibers, roll half a cracker 
and put it with the brains and a little parsley into a clean bit of 
muslin, tie it up, and put into the kettle with the head, etc. Let 
it boil from ten to fifteen minutes ; then take it up, add butter, 
pepper, and salt, and serve in a small dish by itself. The bones 
must all be removed from the head ; when well done, they will 
slip out easily. Lay the meat in the center of the platter ; skin 
the tongue, and place it with the meat ; remove the windpipe, 
and lay lights, heart, and liver around. Make a gravy of dra^vn 
batter, with parsley, chopped fine, and two eggs beaten, and 
added just as the gravy comes to a boil. Send all to table hot. 

Head and Harslet Hash. — Take what may be left from 



VEAL. 421 

dinner of the calf's head and harslet, chop very fine, use a few 
spoonfuls of the drawn butter, moisten with the water in which 
the meat was boiled, put over the fire till hot, then serve on nice 
slices of toasted bread, and you have a breakfast dish even better 
than the dinner. 

The water in which calf's head, etc., is boiled, should be care- 
fully kept, and when cold it will be a stiff jelly. Take off the 
grease that will harden on top, and the jelly may be made into a 
fine mock-turtle soup. It is still better if, when boiling the head 
and harslet, you add two calf's feet. 

Veal Pie. — Take the neck of veal, joint it as small as you 
can, and stew, adding j ust enough boiling water to prevent it from 
burning. Season with pepper, salt, and, if liked, a very little 
onion cut up fine, and a little parsley or summer savory. Make 
a crust of two potatoes, boiled and mashed smooth and free from 
lumps, two table-spoonfuls suet chopped very fine, a little salt ; 
stir it together with ice-cold water. Flour the board, roll out, 
and scatter over it thin shavings of hard butter right from the 
ice ; shake over some flour ; lap it together and roll out again. 
Then put on more butter, using, in all, four table-spoonfuls, 
not heaped. This done, sprinkle again with flour, roll it up and 
put on the ice till the veal is done, which should not cook over 
three quarters of an hour. When tender, pick the meat from 
most of the bones, leaving a few small ones to give shape to the 
pie ; roll the meat in well-beaten eggs ; three will suffice to wet 
it ; then roll it in flour ; cover the pie-dish with part of the paste, 
rolled about a quarter of an inch thick. Cut a strip of crust to 
place around the edge of the dish, and lay the meat in neatly, 
cutting in a few bits of butter, two table-spoonfuls will do, and 
pour over the meat the water in which it was cooked, which 
should have boiled down so as to leave only enough to make the 
pie juicy. Now roll out the rest of the paste for the upper crust, 
about three quarters of an inch thick, cover the pie, cut a slit in 
the top, and bake. Be careful not to scorch the crust. 

Sweetbread Croquettes. — Trim the sweetbreads neatly ; 
remove all the gristle ; parboil and mince very fine ; add grated 
bread seasoned with salt and pepper, and a very little mace, if 
agreeable ; moisten with cream ; stir all well together, and shape 



422 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

them by pressing firmly into a pear-shaped wineglass or small 
mold, or mold into little cones by rolling in your hands. Have 
ready a beaten egg and fine rolled and sifted bread or cracker 
crumbs. Dip each croquette into the egg and roll in the crumbs ; 
stick a fruit-stem into the cone, to look like an apple or pear, and 
fry in butter. This is good for cold chicken, beef, or raw oysters. 

Veal Patty. — Four pounds veal-steak, chopped while raw 
very fine ; mix with it eight butter-crackers rolled, a piece of 
butter of the size of an egg, and two well-beaten eggs. Mix all 
thoroughly together, and season with pepper and salt. A little 
sage, thyme, or savory is thought an improvement by some. 
Mold into a loaf ; put small bits of butter on top, and cover 
with grated bread crumbs. Judge of the quantity of butter 
necessary by your own taste. If not liked A^ery rich, two table- 
spoonfuls of butter cut up and sprinkled over will be plenty. 
Bake two hours. When cold, cut oft' slices as from a loaf of 
bread, for tea or side-dishes. 

Minced Veal. — Mince the veal very fine with a little ham, a 
table-spoonful of flour, three well-beaten eggs, one small onion 
scalded for five or ten minutes to remove the coarser flavor and 
then chopped fine ; sweet herbs, pepper, and salt to suit the taste. 
Butter a deep pie-plate, set a small cup in the center, and fill the 
plate all around the cup with the mince-meat. Bake of a delicate 
brown ; then remove the cup and fill its place with some nice 
sauce, — apple, cranberry, or jelly, or, if you please, some scal- 
loped oysters. Beef, lamb, or chicken prepared in the same way 
is very good. 

Veal Hash.— Boil a shin of veal which has about three pounds 
of meat on it in as small a quantity of water as you can, so that 
when done there shall be one quart of water left. Boil the day 
before needed, that it may be perfectly cold. When the meat is 
well done, lay it anywhere where it will be away from the air, 
but do not wrap it in a cloth. Save all the liquor in a separate 
dish. The next morning cut up all the meat ; chop not quite so fine 
as for the " mince." Half an hour before you send it to the table, 
put it over the fire in a covered stewpan with the liquor ; have 
ready half a pint of hot- drawn butter and eight hard-boiled eggs ; 
remove the shells, mince all but two, and add to the meat. As 



POULTRY AND GAME. 423 

soon as it boils up, remove i'roin the fire ; season with salt, cay- 
enne i)epper, and a little black pepper. Cut the two eggs in slices, 
and when the meat is placed in a dish, lay them over the top 
neatly. Send to table hot. 

Veal Loaf. — Tliree pounds of veal cutlet, a quarter of a pound 
salt pork chopped very fine. Three Boston crackers rolled fine, three 
well-beaten eggs, one wineglass claret or currant wine, half a cup 
of tomato catsup, five ripe tomatoes, if in season, or a tea-cup of 
canned tomatoes ; one onion chopped fine, if not disagreeable ; juice 
and chopped peel of one orange or lemon, whichever is the most 
palatable ; one small teaspoonful each of pepper, cloves, sweet-mar- 
joram, sage, and salt. Mix these very thoroughly with the meat, 
and mold into a loaf. Place in a dripping-pan, cover the top with 
cracker crumbs, and bake three hours. While baking, keep some 
butter and hot water on the side of range, and baste the loaf with it 
often and thoroughly. Let it stand in a cool place till the second 
day before cutting. Excellent as a relish for breakfast or tea. 

Croquettes. — These are a sort of mince-meat dumpling. Take 
some cold veal, chicken, lobster, or tender cold beef, chopped fine. 
Put a half table-spoonful of butter in a saucepan on the fire. When 
melted, put in a piece of onion chopped fine ; fry a little ; add 
half a table-spoonful of flour. When it browns, put in the minced 
meat ; stir it steadily till heated through, adding salt and pepper. 
Then add a gill and a half of broth, and set the pan a little off 
the fii'e to simmer. Chop three stalks of parsley fine, and mix it 
in on the fire, stirring all the time. Then break in two eggs, stir- 
ring faster ; in two or three minutes take it from the fire and set 
it to cool. Thus far has occupied about ten minutes. When the 
meat is cold, sift some flour on the board ; take a lump of the 
mince the size of an egg or larger, roll it in the fine flour, dip it 
in a cup of beaten egg, drain and roll it in bread crumbs ; have 
a quantity of boiling suet or drippings in a frying-pan, and fry 
the croquettes in them for a couple of minutes, till brown. Put 
in a colander and let the fat drain off. 

POULTRY AND GAME. 

Steamed Turkey. — All poultry, after dressing, should remain 
in cold water from twenty minutes to half an hour to extract the 



424 CHOICE B'AMILY RECKIFTS. 

blood and leave thein white ; then hang iu a cool place for twenty- 
four hours, in winter even longer. They will be much sweeter 
and finer flavored for it. 

When ready to cook a turkey, see thaf every pinfeather is taken 
out, rinse in cold water, and wipe dry with a cloth used for noth- 
ing but such piu'poses ; rub inside with pepper and salt, and fill 
with oysters carefully washed in their own lic^uor to remove bits 
of shells ; sew up the turkey, place in a large dish, and set it into 
a steamer over boiling water, or in a " Rumford Boiler " ; lay a 
clean cloth over the steamer and shut the cover on tight, and 
steam till tender, — two and a half hours, or, if large, three hours ; 
rim a fork into the breast to see if done. If it seems tender, and 
no reddish juice flows out, it is ready to take up ; strain the 
gravy and put into the oyster-sauce, which should be ready while 
the turkey is cooking, made like stewed oysters and thickened 
with farina or butter and flour ; let it just boil up, and add, if 
you like it white, a little boiled cream ; pour this over the steamed 
turkey, and serve hot. 

Or, if preferred, the turkey may be stuff'ed as for a common 
baked turkey and steamed ; or it may be stuffed with good plump 
chestnuts after the skins are removed, and the gra\y made with 
the giblets chopped fine, adding a little flour as you chop, and the 
gravy from the disli stirred to it, and set over the fire to boil up. 
While the gravy is being made, rub a little butter over and 
sprinkle the turkey with flour very slightly, and set in a hot oven 
to brown delicately. Many prefer this to sending to the table 
right from the steamer with white gravy poiu-ed on. 

Broiled Chickens. — First boil the giblets, neck, and tips of 
the wings in just enough water to cover them ; season with a lit- 
tle pepper and salt. Wben tender, pick off what little meat there 
is on the neck and wing-tips, and chop with the giblets, very fine, 
shaking over them, while chopping, enough flour to make the 
w^hole like a paste ; then return it to the water it was boiled iu, 
stirring all together, and leave it on the range to keep hot. This 
done, put the chicken on a well-heated gridiron over a clear fire, 
covering it closely with a cover made to fit the gridiron. Cook 
carefully, turning it often, and do not let it scorch. When done, 
it should be of a good, rich, clear brown, as uniform in color as 



rOULTRY AND GAME. 425 

possible. When partly cooked, sprinkle salt and pepper over it 
on both sides. 

Put three gi-eat spoonfuls of butter on the platter you have 
ready to take the chickens up in ; set it into the oven, leaving the 
door open lest you break the platter by too strong heat. When 
the chicken is well cooked, remove from the gridiron to this plat- 
ter, turning it over several times in the melted butter ; then pour 
over all the water in which the giblets have been put, which 
should have become a nice thick gravy ; let the platter stand a 
i'c'w moments in the oven until all is thoroughly blended and 
heated, then send to the table hot. 

If not in a hurry, it is well to melt butter in a deep kitchen- 
dish and put the chicken and gravy into the oven in that, and, 
when thoroughly heated through, remove to a hot china platter 
for the table. There is a risk of cracking the enamel on nice china 
or breaking the platter entirely, ii" set in the oven where a servant 
may forget and close the door. 

To Bake a Chicken. — Choose full-grown, plump, well-fat- 
tened chickens ; remove all the pinfeathers carefully and singe all 
the hairs off by holding a lighted paper under the chicken before 
opening ; then open with care ; see that the gall is not broken in 
taking out the entrails and giblets, and that none of the crop or 
windpipe is left in ; then wash in plenty of cold water ; put inside 
the gizzard, liver, and heart, when well cleaned and washed, and 
hang up to drain all night. If very warm weather, put in a piece 
of charcoal to keep it sweet. When ready the next morning to 
prepare for baking, cut off the neck and legs, and lay aside with 
the giblets for gravy ; prepare a dressing, or stuffing, of dried 
bread rolled fine, with a little salt, pepper, sage, and summer sa- 
Aory, — the quantity of seasoning must be determined by the taste 
of the fiimily ; rub salt and pepper inside, fill with the dressing, 
putting enough into the neck or crop to give it a plump look ; 
sew up and skewer. There should be a grate fitted to every meat- 
pan on which to lay meat or fowls, to keep them from Ijecoming 
clammy by resting in the Avater ; rub your fowls Avith a little 
butter and salt, place on this grate, pour boiling water into the 
pan, and put into the OA'en ; let it cook about fifteen minutes, then 
baste Avith a little butter and salted Avater, kept in a boAvl close by ; 



42G CHOICE FAMILY UECEIPTS. 

dredge over some flour, and baste again ; repeat the basting three 
or foiu" times while the chickens are baking ; turn them over 
every time ; cook till a fork ■will enter the flesh easily, but tak- 
ing care not to dry up the meat ; then remove the skewers and 
thread with which they were sewed, put them on the platter and 
place in the heater, or where they \vill keep hot till the gravy is 
ready. 

Gravy for Roast or Baked Poultry. — Put the giblets and 
neck into a small saucepan, sprinkle over a little salt and pepper, 
then cover them A\T.th boiling water and set on the back part of 
stove or range to cook slowly, as soon as you have put the poul- 
try into the oven ; dip the feet and legs into boiling water long 
enough to scald off all the leathery skin, and put them into the 
saucepan to boil with, the giblets and neck. The feet and lower 
part of the leg, usually thrown away, contain a good deal of jelly, 
which gives a very desirable richness and body to the gravy, and 
when boiled tender many think them a great delicacy to be served 
Avhole. "When the giblets are boiled tender, chop very fine, and 
while chopping dredge over flour till you have made them Uke a 
paste, then put l)ack into the water they were boiled in to sim- 
mer till the chickens are done, stirring occasionally that the 
chopped giblets may not stick to the saucepan. After the fowls 
are taken up, set the meat-pan on the stove and shake some 
flour into the liquor at the bottom of the pan. By the time the 
poultry is cooked this should have been done to a brown gravy. 
After you have put in tlie flour, do not stir it until the liquor has 
boiled up over it, then rub it quite smooth, and little by little 
pour in the water in which the chopped giblets are ; stir con- 
stantly until it thickens, and if properly managed you wUl have 
a smooth brown gray^i- of fine flavor. 

Chicken Pot-Pie. — Cut up a chicken, or two if a large pie 
be required ; lay the pieces neatly into the pot, and sprinkle over 
salt and jjepper to yovir taste ; rub one table-spoonful and a half 
of flour and tM^o table-spoonfuls of butter (even full) together, and 
spread this paste over the chicken ; then cover the whole with 
good new milk, or, better still, with cream, if you have it. Set 
the pot, covered closely with a tight-fitting cover, where it will 
not cook or boil rapidlj^, but stew or simmer, for three quarters 



POULTRY AND GAME. 427 

of an hour. While tbis is stewing, make a crust of prepared flour, 
or, if you have none, with soda and cream of tartar, just as you 
would for light, tender biscuit ; roll this out quite thick, and 
cover over the meat. If there be not enough gravy, add a little 
more milk boiling hot, or boiling water if milk be not plenty. 
Cut a slit in the top of the crust to let the steam escape. Boil 
half an hour after the crust is jiut on, bringing the pot over a hot- 
ter fire, that it may boil, not simmer. In taking it out, pass a 
knife around the sides of the pot to loosen the crust ; then slip 
a long-handled skimmer, as nearly flat as you have, or a batter- 
cake turner, carefully under, and try to lift it out so as to break 
the crust as little as possible ; but it will, if properly made and 
cooked, be so light that it will probably break a Little. When 
lifted out, lay it on a dish and take out the chicken and gravy ; 
then lay the crust together over it, and serve hot. Lean fresh 
pork or veal is very nice cooked in the same way. 

Fried Chickens. — Cut up the chickens neatly ; lay them in a 
large panful of cold water half an hour to extract the blood. Then 
drain and put into just enough boiling water to cover them ; sea- 
son with pepper and salt ; parboil for twenty minutes. Fry crisp 
and brown some thin slices of salt pork. AVhen the chicken is 
sufiiciently parboiled, drain it from the water and lay each piece 
into the hot pork-fat. Dust over some flour, and fry the chicken 
a clear brown, turning each piece when sufliciently browni. When 
done on both sides, lay each piece on the platter neatly, and set 
where it will keep hot but not dry. When each piece is done and 
laid on the platter, shake from the dredge-box into the hot fat 
enough flour to absorb the fat. Do not stir it till all the flour is 
saturated ; then with a spoon stir smooth and ponr in, little by 
little, enough of the water in which the chicken was parboiled 
— which should be kept boiling — to make what gravy you need, 
stirring it all the time. When thickened and free from lumps, 
ponr on the chicken, and serve hot. 

To Cook an Old Fovyl. — Dress and stufi^ as for roasting ; 
then boil three hours in a covered pot, with one quart of water, 
to which add two table-spoonfuls of vinegar ; then take it from 
the water, rub over with a little butter, sprinkle over some flour, 
and put the fowl into a bake-pan and bake in a hot oven one 



428 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

liour. Use the li<iuor in the pot for gravy and to baste with. 
The vinegar makes it very tender, but does not taste at all. 

Roast Duck. — Select those that are fat and tender. Remove 
every pinfeather, and singe off all the hairs ; stuff with bread 
chopped fine, seasoned with a little sage, summer savory, salt, and 
pepper ; or, if agreeable, add two onions chopped fine, but unless 
sure that all who are to eat can use onions without injury, it is 
better not to risk them. Remove the two oil-sacks from the back, 
or the oilwill impart a strong, disagreeable flavor. Roast care- 
fully till of a nice brown, basting thoroughly. One hour is quite 
long enough, as, if too much cooked, a duck becomes very dry 
and tasteless. Remove all the fat from the gravy, and put in the 
giblets, which should have been cooked and chopped fine before 
the ducks were done. When chopping them, dust in flour, so as 
to make a paste ; then stir it into the gravy ; stir till all lumps 
have been broken and smoothed ; let it cook a few minutes, then 
pour in part of the water in which the giblets were boiled ; cook 
till it is thick and entirely free from lumps, then serve. 

We have been told that a very excellent French cook opens and 
draivs his poultry, but does not pluck them till they have hung a 
few days, — long enough for the substance in the end of the quill 
to absorb, — and thus they can be plucked clean leavirig no pin- 
feathers. He then picks and stufts them, and lets them hang a 
day or two longer, until the whole fowl is flavored with the dress- 
ing. We are assured poultry so prepared is very delicate and finely 
flavored. We will not vouch for this ; but in part it somids rea- 
sonable, and is well worth trying, only we think the feathers must 
impart a strong, oily flavor if left in so long. 

To Roast a Goose. — Select a goose with clean, white skin, 
plump breast, and yelloto feet. If the feet are red, the bird is 
old. Let it hang for a few days, if the weather will permit, as 
by so doing the flavor is gi'eatly improved. In dressing, take 
great care in plucking, singeing, and drawing the goose, for if the 
oil-sack is broken over it, or the gall bladder broken inside, it 
will be more noticeable and less easy to remove in a goose than 
any other poultry. Cut off the neck close to the back, leaving 
the skin long enough to tie over. This can be done by drawing 
back the skin, while you sever the neck from the body. Cut off 



POULTRY AND GAME. 429 

the feut at the first joint, and separate the pinions at the first joint 
also ; beat the breastbone flat with potato-masher or rolling-pin. 
Put a skewer through the under part of each wing ; draw up the 
legs closely and run a skewer into the middle of each, passing it 
([uite tlu'ough the body. Put another skewer into the small part 
of the leg, bring it close down to tlie side-bone, run it through, 
and proceed the same way with the other side. Cut ofi" the vent, 
make a hole in the skin large enough to draw the rump througli, 
so as to keep in the seasoning. Make a dressing of mealy pota- 
toes, finely mashed, two boiled oni(jns chopped very fine, one and 
a half teas])oonfuls of powdered sage, one of salt, and one of black 
pepper. Fill the body of the goose, and secure it firmly by tying 
the skin over the neck, and drawing the rump through the hole 
cut in the skin. Roast for two hours, if large, or bake the same 
length of time ; but roasting is much nicer. Baste often, dredg- 
ing a little flour over. Do not baste in the drippings from the 
goose ; they are too strong ; but prepare some basting by putting 
a little browned butter, salt, and pepper into part of a cup of 
boiling water. When half done, drain the fat from the roaster ; 
the last drijjpings will not be so strong, and, with the basting-water, 
will suffice for the gravy. Make a good gravy, in which the 
giblets finely chopped, and a little flour for thickening, have 
been boiled. Put the gravy into a tureen, and serve the goose 
with a dish of nice apple or gooseberry sauce. 

Wild Goose. — A wild goose should be cooked rare. One 
hour's roasting is quite sufficient. A cup of currant jelly and a 
glass of red wine should be added to the graA^y, which is made the 
same as for a common goose. Serve hot. 

To Roast a Green Goose. — Geese are called green till four 
months old. Dress and truss the same as a full-grown goose, but 
do not stuft' the bird. Put into the body pepper and salt, and a 
little butter to moisten it. Roast for an hour ; serve Avith gra^'y 
made like the first, and tomato or sorrel sauce. 

To Boil a Goose. — Clean throughly, and soak for twelve 
hours in warm milk and water. Then dry, and stuff with sage 
and onions, as for roasting. Put it into cold water over the fire, 
and bring to a boil, then let it siminer gently for an hour and a 
c[U.arter. Serve with onion sauce poured over it, and stewed cab- 
bage around it. 



430 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

A teaspoonful of made naustard, a salt-spoonful of salt, a few 
grains of cayenne, mixed with a glass of port wine, are some- 
times poured into the goose, through a slit made in the apron when 
about half done, and by many persons considered a great delicacy. 

Onions may be omitted, if injurious to any who are to par- 
take of it. They make many persons quite ill, and it is a kind- 
ness to avoid using any seasoning that will disturb your guests. 
Whatever way a goose is to be cooked, it is well to soak it over 
night in milk poured over it boiling hot. In the morning wash 
off the milk and put the goose into a kettle of cold water, set it 
over the frre, and let it remain till almost boiling hot, not CLuite. 
This removes the strong taste of the oil, and you can then take it 
out, dry with a towel, and when cool stuff and cook as you wish, 
— either boiled, baked, or roasted. 

To SteTv a Goose. — Truss the goose as for boiling ; cover 
with thin slices of bacon and tie it up. Cover the bottom of the 
sauce') .n also with bacon, sprinkle in a very little of sweet herbs 
powdered, a carrot cut in dice, and two bay leaves, if you can get 
them. Lay in the goose and giblets, cover with bacon, moisten 
with rich stock enough to cover the goose ; set over the fire and 
let it boil up ; then cover with buttered paper and a close-fitting 
cover ; set it on a hot hearth with fire over it. Let it cook an 
hour and a half. Serve with onion or apple-sauce. 

Both geese and ducks if old, and we think turkeys and chick- 
ens also, are better for being parboiled before roasting. Put in 
just enough water to boil them ; keep the vessel close covered. 
Let a tough goose gently simmer two hours ; then dry, wipe 
clean, stuff, and roast ; basting with a little bacon fat or butter. 

To Stevr Pigeons. — Phick and clean the birds with great care. 
When drawn, leave them for about an hour to soak in cold water. 
This extracts the blood, leaving them white and sweet. This 
done, take them out, and tying the legs together, hang the birds 
up to drain. When dry, lay them in a deep dish and place on 
the ice or a cool place overnight. 

The next morning prepare the stuffing of stale bread chopped 
very fine, and to it, for twelve pigeons, put one and a half table- 
spoonfuls of Ijutter, two teaspoonfuls of salt, one of black pepper ; 
a little sage, thyme, summer savory, or sweet-marjoram (only a 



POULTKY AND GAME. ^31 

very little, — the exact quantity cannot well be given more ex- 
plicitly, — too much will spoil it ; better err by using too little, 
and profit by the experience the next time). Eub a little salt and 
pepper outside and inside of each bird, then fill with the stuffing 
and sew them up, passing the thread through the legs and wings 
to make them lie close to the body ; then rub a little butter over 
the Ijirds, dredge with fl(jur, put them into a bake-pan and place 
in a quick oven to brown. While this is being dcme, chop a little 
liesh parsley, making, when fine, half a table-spoonful, and put it 
to two table-spoonfuls of butter and the same of flour ; beat all 
together till smooth. Brown the birds on both sides ; twenty 
minutes should do it, if your oven is of the right heat. Lay a 
small saucer or plate on the bottom of a close-covered iron stew- 
kettle or into a soup digester, and put the birds Avhen browned 
into the kettle, packing them compactly as you can ; spread over 
them the smoothly beaten flour, butter, and parsley, and pour in 
enough rich milk to cover the pigeons (cream is better, but that 
is a luxury belonging to the country chiefly). Set them on the 
stove or range where they will steadily simmer four hours. They 
must not boil hard ; occasionally stir them from the bottom with 
a spoon, to prevent them from sticking, but do not break them. 
When done, take up and place them neatly on a large, deep platter, 
pour the gravy over the birds, trim the edges of the platter with 
a neat fringe of green parsley, and send to the table hot. 

Wild Squabs. — After dressing the birds, let them soak in cold 
water a half-hour to extract the blood, then drain off" the water, 
wipe dry on a clean meat-cloth, and set on the ice till needed. 
(They are better to be dressed one day and cooked the next.) Let 
the gridiron be liright and clean ; set it over the fire till hot, then 
lay the birds on, being careful that the fire is not so hot as to scorch. 
Turn them over every minute or two ; when half done sprinkle 
salt and pepper over them and finish. Have a thin slice of bread 
toasted and spread with butter to lay under each bird ; place the 
birds on the bread, put butter on each and set in the oven a mo- 
ment, and send to the table hot. It is well to have the bread 
toasted, buttered, and set in the oven to keep hot before the birds 
are put over the fire. 

Chicken Pudding. — Joint a pair of small, tender chickens ; 



4:32 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

season with salt and pepper ; just cover witli water, and stew 
with three thin slices of salt pork, that has been well washed in 
hot water. When tender, take from the litj^uor and set to cool. 
Make a batter of one quart of flour, one quart of milk, six eggs, 
and a teaspoonful of salt ; or, if prepared flour, no salt is needed. 
When the meat is cold, cover the bottom of a large bake-dish 
with batter, then a layer of chicken, then another of batter, and 
so on till all is used, finishing ofi' with batter. Bake to a 
liglit brown. Beat an egg and stir into the liquor that was set 
aside, and serve it hot with the pudding. 

Chicken Jelly. — Cut up an old hen into quite small pieces ; 
skin it, and pour over three pints of cold water ; boil until the 
bones slip from the meat easdy. Then take out all the meat ; 
throw back the bones to boil in the liquor longer ; chop the meat 
with the rind of one lemon, having squeezed the juice into the 
boiling liquor ; put the meat, well seasoned, into a jelly-mold, 
and when the liquor is boiled down full one half strain it upon 
the meat in the mold ; next morning turn it out of the mold and 
cut in slices. Do not throw away the feet of poultry, but pour 
boiling water over them to take off the skin, and then put the 
feet into the liquor to boil. There is a great deal of mucilage in 
their feet, and it is excellent both for this jelly and for enriching 
the gravy for poultry. 

Chicken Patties. — Chop very fine all the dry, poorest bits 
left from baked chicken ; season carefully with pepper, salt, and 
a little celery, cut in small bits ; make a light puff paste, roll a 
quarter of an inch thick, cut with a neatly shaped paste-cutter ; 
lay a narrow strip of the paste all round, then put some of the 
mince on the paste ; cut another piece of the same size and lay 
over. Bake fifteen minutes. This makes a neat dish and is good. 

To make Remnants of Meat, Chicken, etc., palatable. — 
When a boiled ham is nearly used up, there is consideralile lean 
meat about the small part of the ham which may waste because 
no way can be contrived to use it. If you will grate all the 
hard dried bits, or, if too small to grate, pound them in a marble 
mortar to a paste, and pack it close in a stone pot, you ^vill find 
it excellent for seasoning hashes, patties, or to sprinkle over 
dropped eggs laid on buttered toast. 



PORK AND HAM, 433 

Meat Croquettes. — Mince cold chicken very fine ; moisten 
with rich gravy ; season with pei:>per and salt. Shaj^e them by 
pressing tightly into a jelly-glas.s or long, pear-shaped wine- 
glass ; brush over with beaten egg alter they are shaped, roll in 
bread crumbs, and fry in lard. Drain, and send to taljle hot. Or, 
beat together one pint of cream and one pint of minced chicken, 
three even table-spoonsfuls of butter, with salt and pepper. Fry 
in lard. 

PORK AND HAM. 

To Boil a Ham. — Boil it three or four hours, according to 
the size ; then take up, skin the ham ready for the table, stick 
over it a dozen cloves, rub over half a small cupful of sugar, 
sprinkle thoroughly with pounded rusk or cracker crumbs, and 
set into a well-heated oven for half an hour. 

Broiled Ham. — Cut thin slices from the middle of the ham, 
as trae and uniform as possible, having the knife very sharp. 
But if by cai"elessness some parts are thicker than others, roll 
the thick part out, stoutly, with a rolling-pin. Soak an hour or 
two in warm water, unless the ham is quite fresh. Have the 
gridiron perfectly free from roughness, and well heated ; then 
broil over a brisk fire, turning constantly that no part may be 
black. If cut thin enough, it wdll take but a few minutes to 
broil it. "When done, butter and pepper to suit the taste. For 
breakfast, an omelet, or eggs cooked in some acceptable way, 
should always go with ham. 

Ham Croquettes. — Bits of boiled ham, too much broken to 
slice neatly for the table, may be made into a very desirable 
breakfast dish. 

To two cups finely chopped boiled ham, put two table-spoon- 
fuls of flour, six eggs if plenty, — four will answer, — yelks and 
whites beaten separately. Stir all together, and make into balls, 
or shape in a wineglass. When in shape, roll them in bread 
crumbs, cracker dust, or flour ; dip them into a little beaten egg, 
and fry in butter to a clear golden brown. 

Ham and Toast. — Boil a pint of milk, wet a table-spoonful 

of flour ^vith cold milk, and stir up smooth. When the milk 

comes to a boil, pour in the flour, stir carefully till it thickens 

smoothly, add a table-spoonful of butter and a little black pepper. 

19 BB 



434 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Shave some good ham very thin, pour over it Ijoiling water, and 
let it scakl a minute, pour it off, add a little more, let it boil up 
once, then put it into the thickened milk, leaving it there while 
you toast carefully a lew evenly cut slices of bread. Lay them 
into a deep dish, skim out the ham from the milk and lay neatly 
on the toast, and then pour over all the thickened milk. You 
can beat an egg and put to the milk if you like. It makes it 
richer, but is not necessary. 

This is a very nice breakfast relish. We think it preferable to 
dried beef. 

Ham Toast. — Soften slightly in a stewpan a small piece of 
butter ; put in as much finely minced ham as will cover a large 
round of buttered toast, and add gravy enough to make it moist. 
When quite hot stir in qiiickly with a fork one egg. Place the 
mixture over the toast, w^hich cut in pieces of any shape you may 
fiancy. 

To use Cold Boiled Ham. — When a ham has been long 
boiled and is becoming dry, cut some thin slices, dip in egg 
and bread crumbs, and fry quickly. Serve immediately. 

Another "Way. — Cut off all fat ; mince the ham very fine ; 
break into a spider a half-dozen fresh eggs ; add a table-spoon- 
ful of cream, a little salt and pepper, and set over the fire ; as 
soon as the eggs are set or nearly solid, spread one half thickly 
with the minced ham, and fold the other half over upon it ; slip 
it carefully from the spider to the platter. Garnish with curled 
parsley. Serve hot. 

Ham Ball. — Chop fine such small pieces of boiled ham as 
are usually thought too poor or small for use ; add as many 
eggs as there will be people at the table ; sprinkle in a little 
flour ; beat together with chopped ham, and make into balls. 
Fry in hot butter or well-clarified drippings to a golden brown. 

Ho-w a Pig was roasted on a Sugar Plantation. — The 
pig, having been carefully cleaned and dressed, was wiped dry, 
part of the liver and heart chopped fine, mixed -with bread crumbs, 
savory herbs, salt, and pepper, and sewed up. While this was 
being prepared a fire was built outdoors, and when burned down 
so as to secm^e a bright, large bed of coals, a long, smooth stick 
was run through the pig lengthwise, and smaller ones skewered 



■" POKK AND HAM. 435 

the legs to the body. A piece of nice fat pork was fastened on 
the stick where it entered the head. Thus firmly fixed, one of 
the servants held the long stick with the pig on it over the fire, 
slowly turning it round and round as it began to cook ; or, if lie 
was needed elsewhere, one end of the stick was driven into the 
ground, close to the coals, but only for a few minutes, when he 
returned to continue to turn it round over the huge bed of coals. 
In much less time than we need to cook a pig in our convenient 
kitchens, the dweller under the cocoanut-trees was beautifully 
browned, crisp, and tender. In cooking, much of the fat from the 
pork filtered through, and having given juice and relish to the 
meat, had, with a good deal of fat from the pig, fallen into the 
ashes around the bed of coals, leaving the meat rich and of pe- 
culiar sweetness and delicacy, without being too greasy. 

We had not the good fortune to partake of it, but this, with 
others cooked in a similar manner, was pronounced the most de- 
licious meat ever tasted, and we found no difficulty in believing 
it. Some of our Northern cooks, with any amount of " modern 
improvements," might try this experiment with great success. 

Wild game, birds, rabbits, ducks, etc., are often cooked in a 
similar manner. All wild birds are apt to be very dry, and if a 
thin piece of pork is tied about them, while baking or roasting, 
till it becomes broAvn and crisp, then removed, and the bird 
allowed to brown delicately, it is a wonderful addition to the 
juiciness and flavor of the game. 

Good Sausage Meat. — Take two thirds ham and one third 
fat pork, season well with nine teaspoonfuls of pepper, the same 
of salt, three of powdered sage, and one of thyme or summer 
savory to every five pounds of meat (not heaping teaspoonfuls, 
remember) ; warm the meat enough so that you can mix it well 
with the hands ; then pack in jars. When needed, make up in 
small cakes and fry in a little butter, or simply alone. But they 
must not be covered over, or they will fall to pieces. Some like 
a little cinnamon added. Keep where it is cool, but not damp. 

A Dutch Dish. — Pare and slice as many potatoes as are 
needed for the size of your family ; put them into a deep dish ; 
pour in as much milk or cream as will fill the dish and not boil 
over. Stir in a little salt and pepper ; lay some slices of salt pork 



436 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

cut thin over the top ; and bake two hours. Be careful and not 
put in too much salt, as the pork will season it almost enough. 

SALADS AND OMELETS. 

Chicken Salad. — Well-fattened chickens, of medium size, 
tender and delicate, make better salad than large, overgrown ones. 
Put them on to cook in the morning, and save the water they are 
boiled in for soup. "When cold, remove the skin and cut the flesh 
in pieces, the size you prefer. Some like the meat very coarse, 
others choose it quite fine. This is entirely a matter of taste. 
When cut up, throw over the dish a towel slightly damped in cold 
water, to keep the meat from drying. Take the best celery you 
can get, and cut it of the size you wish. The " fancy cooks " cut 
both celery and chicken in bits about one inch long and half an 
inch thick, but we think the salad better cut finer. When the 
celery is cut, put it between clean cloths to dry perfectly, and 
then prepare the dressing. For dressing for two chickens, take 
three fourths of a bottle of the purest salad oil or thick sweet 
cream, two scant table-spoonfuls of the best mustard, the yelks 
of two raw eggs and of twelve hard-boiled ones. Put the eggs to 
be boiled in a saucepan of cold water over a quick fire ; bring 
to a boil, and let them boil hard ten minutes, then drop them 
into cold water. When cool, remove the shells. Break the raw 
eggs, and drop the yelks into a dish large enough to make all the 
dressing in ; beat them, stirring the same way, for ten minutes ; 
then slowly add the mustard, mix it with the eggs thoroughly, 
then add a teaspoonful of the best vinegar, and, when this is well 
mixed, add the oil, a drop at a time, stirring constantly and al- 
ways the same way. Then rub the yelks of the hard-boiled 
eggs very smooth, and stir in as lightly as possible a teacup of 
vinegar ; pour it slowly into the first mixture, stirring with a silver 
fork. Now season the chicken and celery with salt and pepper, and 
as soon as ready for use pour on the dressing. If set where it is 
too cold in cold weather, the dressing will curdle and be ruined. 

Italian Chicken Salad. — Make a dressing in the j^roportion 
of the yelks of three hard-boiled eggs, rubbed fine, one salt-spoon- 
ful of salt, one of mustard, and one of cayenne pepper, one of 
white sugar, four table-spoonfuls of salad-oU, and two table-spoon- 



SALADS AND OMELETS, 437 

fuls of vinegar. Simmer tliis dressing over the fire, but don't let 
it boil. Stir constantly while over the fire. Then take a suffi- 
cient quantity of the white meat of cold chicken for this quantity 
of cb'essing, or increase in this proportion to the desired quantity ; 
pull the white meat into small flakes, pile it up in a dish, and 
jiour the dressing on it. Take two heads of fine, fresh lettuce 
that have been washed and laid in water, take out the best part, 
cut it up, and arrange in a heap around the chicken, heaped 
in the middle of the dish, and on the top of this ridge place the 
whites of eggs, cut in rings and laid in form of a chain. A por- 
tion of the lettuce to be helped with each plate of chicken. 

Lobster Salad. — Boil the lobsters half an hour ; when cold, 
take from the shell ; remove the vein in the back, which is not 
good. Two heads of lettuce, one cup of melted butter, two table- 
spoonfuls of mustard mixed with a little vinegar, is sufficient for 
six pounds of lobster ; after being taken from the shell, salt and 
pepper to your taste, remembering that more can be added if not 
enough ; bu.t if too much, it is not so easily rectified. Chop them 
together and put in the salad-dish. Beat six eggs with a teacup 
of vinegar, put it over the stove to thicken, stirring it all the time ; 
Avhen cold, spread over the lobster. 

Potato Salad. — Cut ten or twelve cold boiled potatoes into 
slices from a quarter to half an inch thick ; put into a salad-bowl 
with four table-spoonfuls of tarragon or plain vinegar, six table- 
spoonfuls of best salad-oil, one teaspoonful of minced parsley, and 
pepper and salt to taste ; stir well that all be thoroughly mixed. 
It should be made two or three hours before needed on the table. 
Anchovies, olives, or any pickles may be added to this salad, as 
also slices of cold beef, chicken, or turkey, if desired. 

Plain Omelet. — Put your omelet-pan on the stove with a 
spoonful of butter ; keep it so hot that the butter will almost 
brown in it, but not quite ; break six fresh eggs into a clean bowl ; 
if fresh, the whites will be clear and the yelks quite round ; add 
a teaspoonful of milk for every egg, and whip the whole as thor- 
oughly as for sponge-cake. When light, put the whipj^ed eggs and 
milk into the omelet-pan and set it directly over the fire. As it 
begins to cool, take a thin-bladed knife and run it carefully under 
the bottom of the egg, so as to let that which is not cooked run 



438 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

beneath. If the fire is right, the whole mass Avill instantl^y puff 
and swejl and cook in a minute, but great care is needed that it 
does not burn on the bottom, as scorched egg is very disagreeable 
and would ruin the whole. It is not necessary to wait till the 
whole mass is solid, for its own heat will cook it after it has been 
taken up, but begin to clear it at one side at once and carefully. 

Puflf Omelet. — Take the yelks of. six eggs and the whites 
of three ; beat very light. Take a teacup of cream (milk will 
answer) and mix with it very smoothly one table-spoonful of 
flour ; salt and pepper to suit your taste ; pour this into the 
beaten eggs. Melt a great spoonful of butter in a pan, and 
when hot pour in the mixture and set the pan into a hot oven. 
When it thickens up, pour over it the other three whites that 
were saved out, which you must have all ready, beaten very light. 
Return to the oven just long enough for a delicate brown, then 
sHp out on a dish so that the top part shall remain uppermost. 

Oyster Omelet. — Beat four eggs very light ; cut out the 
hard part, or eye, from a dozen oysters ; wipe them dry and cut 
into small pieces ; stir them into the beaten egg, and fry in hot 
butter. When the under side is a light brown, sprinkle a very 
little salt and pepper over the top, and fold one half of the ome- 
let over the other. Never turn an omelet ; it makes it heavy 
and ruins it. 

Omelet with Jelly. — Beat separately the yelks and whites 
of four fresh eggs ; add to the yelks sufficient sugar to sweeten to 
your taste, and an even dessert-spoonful of corn flour very smoothly 
beaten in a table-spoonful of cream. Beat this with the yelks till 
perfectly smooth, and stir in the well-beaten whites very gently, 
so as to break the froth as little as possible ; pour the whole into 
a frying-pan in which some butter has been melted, but drain off 
the butter before adding the eggs, etc. Put it over the fire, — two 
or three minutes will cook the under side ; hold the pan to the 
fire till the under side looks firm, then spread raspberry or straw- 
berry jam over one half ; turn the other over it, and serve imme- 
diately. 

Baked Omelet. — Boil half a pint of milk ; beat six eggs 
thoroughly, yelks and whites separately ; put half a teaspoonful 
of salt and a piece of biitter half as large as an egg to the boiling 



EGGS. 439 

milk ; stir it into the beaten eggs ; pour all instantly into a deep 
dish and bake. . If the oven is hot, five minutes will bake it ; not 
{|uite so hot an oven and a little longer time will be better, — 
say ten minutes. It should be of a delicate brown on toji, and 
eaten right from the oven. 

Omelette Soufflee. — Beat the whites of four eggs to a stiff 
froth ; then add the yelks well beaten, with three table-spoon- 
fuls of powdered sugar and the rind and juice of one lemon. 
Beat all well together, and bake in a moderately hot oven live 
ndnutes ; serve immediately. 

EGGS. 

Boiled Eggs. — Be sure and select fresh eggs for boiling, never 
more than a week old. Have the water just boiHng ; if boiling 
fiercely when the eggs are put in, it will crack the shell. Three 
minutes will boil an egg soft ; five minutes will be necessary if 
you like them hard, and ten or twelve minutes if needed for salad ; 
in the latter case they should be thrown into cold water the in- 
stant they are taken from the boiling water, else the white will 
be dark colored or clouded. When perfectly new, an egg requires 
about half a minute longer boiling than if four or five days old. 

Fried Eggs. — The fat left after frying ham, or that which is 
left in the l)ake-pan after bro^vning a ham, is better for frying eggs 
than lard or butter. See that it is boiling hot, hut not discolored, 
and drop the eggs in one at a time. Let them cook half a minute, 
then dijj up some of the boiling fat from the pan, and pour over 
them. Continue to do this till they are done, and it will not be 
necessary to turn them over, which endangers breaking the yelk. 
Two and a half minutes should cook them sufficiently. "When 
dropping them in. hold the cup into which you break each one 
close to the pan, and let the egg slip in as easily as possible, so 
that it will not spread in a ragged surface over the pan. 

Poached Eggs. — While hoiling a pint of milk, beat six 
eggs to a froth. Just before the milk begins to boil, add half 
a table-spoonful of butter and a teaspoonful of salt, and stir into 
it ; then pour in the eggs, stir without ceasing, but gently, till it 
thickens, — not more than two minutes. Take it from the stove 
or range, and continue to stir half a minute or so, and then pour 



440 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

it over two or three thin slices of toasted bread which has been 
spread Avith butter, and all prepared in a deep dish before the eggs 
are put into the niilk. This is very nice for breakfast. 

Hard Scrabbled. — Put two teaspoonfuls of butter into a fry- 
ing-pan ; beat six eggs ; season with pepper and salt. When the 
butter is very hot, but not scorched, put in the eggs ; stir until it 
thickens, and serve hot. 

Fricasseed Eggs, or Egg Baskets. — Boil hard half a dozen 
eggs or more, according to the size of your family. When done, 
throw into cold water immediately. (This should always be done 
with hard-boiled eggs, else the yelk will turn black.) Cut the 
eggs in half after taking from the cold water. Eub the yelks in 
a marble or wedgewood mortar, or with a silver or wooden spoon, 
with some melted butter, pepper, and salt, to a smooth paste ; 
and, if you know it will be agreeable to all, add a very little made 
mustard. Pound the finely minced meat of a cold fowl, or grind 
some cold tongue or ham, and having made it smooth, mix with 
the egg-paste, moistening as you proceed with a little gravy, or, 
if you have none to spare, with melted butter. Cut a thin slice 
from the bottom of the white of the egg, so that it will stand, and 
fill each of the hard whites with, this paste. Place close together 
on a flat dish, and pour over the gravy left from the roast fowl 
yesterday, heated boiling hot, into wliich a few spoonfuls of cream 
or rich milk have been stirred. Cover closely with a hot cover, 
and let them stand a few minutes before sending to table. If 
liked, a little parsley, chopped fine, may be added, to the taste. 

Excellent for breaksast when eggs are plenty. 

Egg Toast. — Put some milk to boil in a farina-kettle ; when 
it comes to a full boil, take from over the fire and break in 
your eggs ; let them stand in the hot milk from eight to ten min- 
utes, but not over the fire. Steam a light biscuit, or, if you prefer, 
some Graham bread till soft, or dip it into boiling milk and lay 
the egg on it, sprinkling over a little salt and pepper. If desired, 
after the biscuit is steamed or moistened in hot milk, you can 
spread a little butter over it before the egg is put on it. This is 
a prett)"- breakfast dish, and much more healthy than when the 
eggs are boiled, fried, or made into an omelet, as the albumen 
(or white of the egg), being only slightly cooked, is much more 



EGGS. 441 

digestil)le. If careful not to scorch it, it is Letter to boil in an 
iron kettle rather than the farina-kettle, as iron will retain the heat 
longer than tin when taken from the fire. Cookeil in boiling 
water rather than milk, eggs are said to be even more digestible, 
but they are not so palatable. 

Scrambled Eggs. — Put into a spider enough butter just to 
oil the bottom ; set it on the stove. Break the eggs into a dish, 
taking care not to break the yelks. As soon as the spider is heated, 
slip iu the eggs, adding a piece of butter as large as a walnut for 
twelve egg.s ; season with veiy little salt and pepper. When the 
eggs harden a little, stir the eggs from the bottom of the spider 
until cooked to suit. The yelks and whites should be separate, 
though stirred together ; not mixed, like beaten eggs. 

Scrambled Eggs. — Melt a table-spoonful of butter in a sauce- 
pan ; beat the yelks of six eggs a few minutes ; then atld to them 
six table-spoonfuls of milk and a tea-spoonful of salt, beat a little 
longer, and pour them into the melted butter. When they 
thicken slightly, pour in the whites unbeaten, and mix them with 
the yelks carefully with a fork, and serve on pieces of toast in a 
hot dish, or if preferred omit the bread. The whites should not 
be beaten in hard, only stirred with the fork enough to mix in 
slightly with the rest. 

Dropped Eggs. — Have ready a saucepan of boiling water. 
Throw in a little salt. Break fresh eggs into a cup, one by one, 
and gently drop each into the water so as not to break the yelk 
or have the white spread much. Dip the boiling water over the 
yelk with a large spoon until the white sets ; then with an egg- 
slice take each egg out separately upon buttered toast. Dress the 
ilish with sprigs of parsley ; sprinkle over a little salt if not 
seasoned sufficiently by the salted water. It is safer to cook one 
egg at a time, keeping tlie dish covered into which they are placed 
after being cooked, or where it will keep hot. 

Cottage Cheese. — Take half sour milk, when well thickened, 
before it has been stirred, and half buttermilk, at least twenty- 
four hours old ; set the dishes containing the milk and butter- 
milk separately over kettles of hot water till the clear whey just 
begins to rise to the top. Do not let it get too hot, or the cheese 
will be hard and tasteless. When the whey has risen, pour 
19* 



442 CHOICE FAMILY RECEirTS. 

iDOth into a strainer-cloth or hag ; tie it at the top, and hang it 
up to drain. If prepared for draining in the morning, by the 
middle of the afternoon it Avill be sufficiently free from whey. 
Then turn it out of the strainer and crumble all up fine ; throw 
in a little salt and black pepper, rub in a table-spoonful of butter, 
and moisten with milk till soft enough to make into small pats or 
rolls for tea. If you have cream to wet it up with, rise no butter. 
If you like it quite soft, add more milk or cream, and put the 
cheese into a deep dish, without attempting to make into balls. 

Cheese Toast. — Without great care, there is danger of much 
waste after a rich cheese is cut, and part sent to the table daily. 
If servants are allowed to cut it, waste would seem inevitable ; 
but if the mistress looks after the cheese, there are many nice 
relishes to be made from the crumbs and dried pieces. 

Take five table-spoonfuls of rich cheese, grated (the " crumbles " 
and dry bits are as good as if cut for this purpose from the cheese), 
mix with it the yelk of one egg, four ounces of grated bread, and 
two table-spoonfuls of butter. Beat it all in a mortar, — a marble 
one if you have it, — adding a dessert-spoonful of mustard and a 
little salt and pepper. Toast some slices of bread, lay the paste 
upon them quite thick ; put it into the oven a few minutes and 
send to the table hot. 

- VEGETABLES. 

Much care in selecting vegetables is necessary, but still more 
in preparing them for the table. It is to be regretted that so 
little attention is given to this. Half the enjoyment that should 
be derived from the abundance of the best varieties which our 
farms and markets offer in every summer season is lost by 
unskillful cooking. So evident is this fact, that it appears quite 
important to call the particular attention of young liouselceeiiers to 
this part of their duty. We are so much in earnest, and deem 
this part of their labors so worthy of extra care, that no doubt 
those who think us quite too particular and whimsical in our 
inculcations of extreme neatness in household management will 
find the same grounds for objection here. We would suggest thnt 
those who feel inclined to raise these objections should overlook 
everything and every place about their houses, and attend Avith 



VEGETABLES. 443 

their own hands to all that onght to be clone /or one month. We 
imagine that, shonld they do this, their experience of the beauty 
of great cleanliness, and the added luxury and pleasure of their 
table comforts, would justify our teachings. 

Of course it is only those who raise vegetables themselves a\ ho 
can enjoy in the highest degree the pleasure of eating them. No 
luxury of this kind, peas, corn, beans, salads, etc., can ever be had 
in perfection when gathered overnight and brought to the market 
or the store, lying for hours it may be before they are used. But 
even after such exposure and waste of the finer flavors, they can 
be made more palatable by proper cooldng. 

Almost all vegetables are better steamed than boiled, as all the 
juices are secured by this method ; particulary is this true in 
cooking corn and peas. A large kettle half hlled with boiling 
water, a steamer fitting closely in the top of the kettle, and the 
cover fitting as closely to the steamer, answers very well when 
there is no better way. But there are now in market various 
kinds of steamers for cooking, which profess to make it a very 
convenient mode of preparing food. The " Peerless," one of the 
best cooking stoves we have ever known, has a large steamer of 
the size and shape of a wash-boiler, with two perforated compart- 
ments in which to put the various articles to be cooked, and we 
have found it exceedingly convenient for steaming all kinds of 
vegetables. We have elsewhere mentioned the " Kumford Boiler," 
the "Warren Cooker," etc. A large amount of corn^ — for those 
Avho can gather sweet corn right from the stalk are not likely to 
be satisfied with a small mess — can be placed in one part ; peas 
in a dish, all seasoned, set beside the com ; potatoes, beets, cauli- 
flower, each in separate dish, can find a place in this large steamer, 
and cooked without losing any of their richness, yet, all being in 
one large receptacle, less room is occupied on the stove than when 
each article is put in a separate kettle. 

Corn. — Like peas and most summer produce, corn should be 
used as soon as plucked. Husk, silk, and put into boiling water 
as soon as possiljle after it is brought from the garden. Let it 
boil twenty minutes, or, if large kernels and cob, thirty. 

The small early corn that will not cook in fifteen or twenty 
minutes is too old, or wholly worthless for cooking. As soon as 



444 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

the com is done, put it on the plates with a napkin under, and 
send it to the table hot. If you prefer it cut from the cob, as 
soon as it is cooked cut it off, and to three pints of com put one 
spoonful of butter, with pepper and salt to suit your taste ; put 
in but a little at first and then taste (always remember that in 
seasoning you can add if needed, but cannot easily take away), add 
a cup and a half of good cream, or if you must use milk instead, 
put in haK a spoonful more butter. Have boiling water in the 
under part of your farina-kettle, and pour yovir corn into the 
upper. Set over the fire till just ready to boil, then dish and 
send to the table hot. 

Another "Way. — With a thin, sharp knife, cut the com from 
the cob before cooking, being careful not to cut so closely as to 
take the horny point that fastens the kernel to the cob. Put 
the com into the farina-kettle as above directed, with a little salt, 
pepper, two cups cream, one spoonful butter, or two cups sweet 
milk and two great spoonfuls of butter. Be sure and scrape 
all the milk from the cob when you have cut off the kernels, or 
squeeze it out with your hand. It adds more to the richness 
of the dish than you would at first imagine. Set the kettle over 
the fire and let it boil fifteen minutes. It will take less time to 
cook than when boiled on the cob. 

Boiling Potatoes. — To boil potatoes well requires more 
attention than is usually given. They should be well washed, 
and left standing in cold water an hour or two, to remove the 
black liquor with which they are impregnated, and a brackish 
taste they would otherwise have. They should not be pared 
before boiling ; they lose much of the starch by so doing, and are 
made insipid. Put them into a kettle of clear cold water, with a 
little salt, cover closely and boil rapidly, using no more water than 
will just cover them, as they produce a considerable quantity of 
fluid themselves while boiling, and too much water will make 
them heavy. As soon as just done, instantly pour off the water, 
set them back on the range, and leave the cover off the saucepan 
till the steam has evaporated. They will then, if a good kind, be 
dry and mealy. This is an Irish receipt, and a good one. 

Another Way. — Put them, with skins on, into a kettle of hot 
water ; let them come just to the boiling point, and pour in a cup 



VEGETABLES. 445 

of cold water, and, as the Irish say, the boiling is " backed." 
Kepeat this till the potato is tender. The object is to keep the 
water just on the verge of boiling, but check it by a little cold 
water till the potato is done. 

To Boil New Potatoes. — When fresh dug take the small 
potatoes not quite ripe, wash clean, then rub the skin off with the 
hand — never use a knife — and put them into boiling water with 
a little salt ; boil quickly ; when done, drain dry and lay into a 
dish, spreading a little butter over them, or boil some new milk, 
put in a great spoonful of butter, and thicken with a little flour 
wet smooth with milk. When the potatoes are cooked and laid 
in the dish pour this dip over them. This is very nice. 

Mashed Potatoes. — Boil with skins on ; when done, peel 
quickly, and put, as you peel, into a saucepan over the stove, but 
not hot enough to burn ; mash free from lumps to a smooth paste ; 
have ready, before peeling the potatoes, a piece of butter half the 
size of an egg, melted, and half a cup of sweet milk, with pepper 
and salt to taste ; when the potatoes are mashed smooth, pour in 
the milk and butter, and work it quick and smooth, then dish ; 
dress the top with a knife so as to be roimd and smooth, rub on a 
little beaten egg, and brown in the oven very delicately. Serve 
with fowls or roast meat. 

Potato Croquettes. — Boil potatoes with just enough water 
to cover ; when three quarters done pour off the water and let them 
steam to finish cooking ; then press them through a wire sieve ; 
this done, put them into a stew-pan, adding one ounce butter to 
one quart potatoes, and the well-beaten yelks of two eggs ; mix 
together thoroughly ; then flour the paste-board, divide the potato 
paste into square parts and roll them on the board to any shape, 
— l^alls, pears, corks, or what you choose, — dip them in egg and 
bread crumbs, and fry in hot fat to a light brown. 

Saratoga Fried Potatoes. — Wash the potatoes clean, slice 
with a potato-slicer very thin, throw into cold water long enough 
to take out some of the starch, then wipe dry and put into boil- 
ing lard, a few pieces at a time ; be sure and keep the lard boil- 
ing ; as soon as the potatoes are of a clear golden broAvn, skim out, 
drain in a colander or sieve, and serve hot. 

Scalloped Potatoes. — Boil in the skins. Peel quickly. 



\' 



446 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

when done, and rab through a colander or coarse sieve, or mash 
smoothly ; season highly with salt, pepper, and butter ; add two 
or three hard-boiled eggs chopped fine. Foiu- eggs to a quart of 
mashed potatoes are nice ; but if eggs are not plenty, two will do. 
Fill a bake-dish with it, and bake long enough to form a deli- 
cately brown crust. Serve as soon as taken from the oven. 

Snow Potatoes. — Boil till just done ; peel and throw into 
a colander or coarse sieve ; break them up a little ; then sprinkle 
in a little salt ; add as much butter as for common mashed po- 
tatoes, and enough milk to enable you to rub them easily through 
the colander. They will, if not too moist, come through in strings 
and fall in a light snowy mass into the vegetable-dish, which 
should be placed underneath. Do not stir it, but send to the 
table just as it falls into the dish. 

Potato Cakes. — Grate one teacup of raw ham, mix it with 
a quart of finely mashed potatoes ; beat and stir into this two eggs, 
add j)epper, salt (not too much), and a little mustard, — a small 
tetispoonful is not too much if you like it highly seasoned, — roll 
in balls and fry a light brown. Sage and sweet-marjoram can be 
added if their taste is agreeable. 

To Fry Sweet Potatoes. — Pare, slice thin, fry in hot lard, 
like fritters, and sprinkle with a little salt as they are taken from 
the lard. 

Maccaroni. — Boil a quarter of a pound of maccaroni in clear 
water till tender. While boiling, thicken half a pint of boiling 
milk with enough flour to make it as stiff as thick cream ; add 
half a table-spoonful of butter and two table-spoonfuls of cream, 
half a small teaspoonful of mustard, a little pepper (white if you 
have it, if not black will answer), a little salt, and a very little 
cayenne pepper. Stir into this a quarter of a pound of grated 
cheese. Boil this all together a few moments, stirring it con- 
stantly to prevent its burning, then drain the water from the 
maccaroni, and stir it into the thickened milk ; let it boil up a few 
moments, and serve hot ; or, if preferred, after dishing it, set the 
dish in the oven and let it brown. For variety, a little parsley 
chopped fine and stirred in before adding the maccaroni is con- 
sidered an improvement. 

Another very good way to prepare maccaroni is, boil it fifteen 



VEGETABLES. 447 

or twenty minutes in clear water, then drain it, and use cliicken 
or veal broth instead of milk for the seasoning. 

Another : Prepare as alcove or with milk, and just before it is 
done beat up two eggs and stir in. 

Egg Plant. — Take tlie fruit fully ripe ; cut in slices not more 
than a quarter of an inch thick, and put it to soak in cold salted 
water for two hours. This removes a black, bitter property, said 
to be unhealthful, certainly disagreeable ; then wipe the slices 
on a clean cloth, dip in the white of egg and fry in boiling hot 
butter till well browned, but be careful not to scorch them ; 
serve hot. 

Another Way. — Pare and qiiarter two or three egg-plants, 
according to the size of your family. Soak them in salt and 
water, as directed above, then boil till soft enough to mash like 
turnips. Mash them smooth, add a few bread crumbs soaked in 
milk, and one or two table-spoonfuls of butter, according to the 
quantity ; a little chopped parsley, an onion boiled and mashed, 
and salt and pejiper. Mix all thoroughly ; pour into a baking- 
dish, cover the top with grated bread, and bake for a half- hour. 
Serve hot. For a fancy dish some boil the plant till soft, then 
cut in halves and scoop out the flesh, leaving the skin whole. 
Mash the inside smooth, and dress as above. Mix well, and stew 
half an hour, then put it back into the shell or skin ; strew bread 
crumbs over, and brown slightly. 

Cucumbers after they begin to turn yellow, and muskmelons 
that come on too late to ripen, may be sliced and fried like the 
egg-plant, and can scarcely be distinguished from it. Some think 
they are better. 

Fricasseed Egg-plant. — Peel and slice the egg-plant ; lay 
the slices in salt-water two hours, to remove the bitterness and 
the black which it would otherwise have ; after soaking, drain off 
all the water ; have enough boiling water in a clean, bright sauce- 
pan to cover the slices ; throw in a table-spoonful of salt, and lay 
in the egg-plant ; let them boil till thoroughly cooked ; then 
(.train off the water, pour in sufficient milk to cover the slices, 
and add two table-spoonfuls of butter, rolled in flour ; let it sim- 
mer gently, shake the pan over the fire till the sauce is thick, 
and then stir iu the beaten yelks of three eggs just before serving. 



448 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

To Ste-w Tomatoes. — Pour boiling water over fair and fully 
ripe tomatoes, that you may peel them quickly ; let the water re- 
main only long enough to start the skin. When peeled, cut into 
an earthen pipkin or a porcelain-lined kettle, as tin or iron 
turns them dark and gives a bad taste. If onions are agreeable, 
cut one small one in with the tomatoes. Cover closely and set 
where they will gently simmer, but not boil hard. Stir them 
occasionally to prevent burning, and Avhen they have cooked two 
hours add salt and pepper to suit your own taste, and to a quart 
of tomatoes add a table-spoonful and a half of sugar, and two 
and a half even spoonfuls of bread or cracker crumbs. After the 
crumbs are added stii- often or they will stick to the bottom of 
the dish and soon burn. Twenty minutes before dinner beat two 
eggs, or if you Lave more than a quart of tomatoes increase the 
number in the proportion of two eggs to a quart ; stir briskly 
and often after the eggs are added, and serve hot. If possible 
the tomatoes should be skinned and on the back part of the 
stove before breakfast, as the longer they simmer the better they 
will be. Three hours' slow cooking at least, five is better. If 
prepared according to rule, they are thought very nice by tomato- 
lovers, and are better warmed over the second day than they 
were the first. 

Baked Tomatoes. — Peel and slice good, firm, but ripe to- 
matoes ; put them in a pudding-dish, season with pepper, salt, 
two great spoonfuls of sugar to a quart of tomatoes, and one 
spoonful of butter. Sprinkle some finely powdered bread crumbs 
over the top and bake slowly two hours. 

To add two well-beaten eggs is thought by some to improve 
this dish. 

Scalloped Tomatoes. — Peel as many large, ripe tomatoes 
as you wish to prepare ; cut them in slices a quarter of an inch 
thick ; pack in a pudding-dish iirst a layer of tomatoes, then a 
thick layer of bread crumbs, pepper, salt, a little white sugar, 
and a teaspoonful of butter ; then a layer of tomatoes, then bread 
crumbs, etc., till the dish is nearly full, having tomatoes last. 
Now dust over pepper, a little sugar, and more butter ; strew 
the top with bread crumlss, and bake, covered, half an hour ; then 
remove the cover, and bake brown, but be careful not to scorch. 



VEGETABLES. 449 

We have received from a South Carolina lady the two follow- 
ing receipts : — 

Boiled Rice. — One pint of rice, as new as it can be had, — 
old lice has a dead taste, — to one quart of boiling water and one 
lal)le-spoonful of salt. Boil biiskly a few minutes, until the 
water seems absorbed ; then, keeping it closely covered, set on 
one side of the stove, where it can be kept hot and steam itself 
done, — not become soft and mushy. In about half an hour it 
will be cooked sufficiently. Serve very hot with the meats, like 
potatoes. If cooked soft and watery, and stirred till gluey — as 
is so often done — it would not be thought eatable at the South. 
Never stir more than once, and then only when it first boils. 
Some prefer only one pint of water to one pint of rice. 

Cooking Rice. — Pick over and wash a cup of rice ; cover 
with cold water, and set where it will cook slowly. When the 
rice has absorbed all the water, pour in a cup of milk ; stir often 
and cook slowly ; in ten or fifteen minutes it will take up all the 
milk ; then add another cup, and so on, till the rice is soft, then 
add a little salt, and dish. Eat with meat, or as dessert ; if the 
latter, sweeten rich sweet cream and grate in nutmegs and use as 
sauce to the pudding. 

Peas. — To prepare any article of food in the best way should 
not be thought "too much trouble." Many kinds of early peas 
are dry, almost tasteless, and if what sweetness there may be in 
the pod is not added to the peas to remedy this deficiency, they 
Avill be very insipid. 

" Carter's Full Crop " and the " Daniel O'Rourke " are among 
our earliest, but neither is a very sweet pea. To use these with 
any enjoyment, securincj all the saccharine properties of the pod, 
is very essential. They are of the smooth, round kind, and these 
are never as sweet as the wrinkled peas, — that is, those that 
wrinkle in boiling or drying. 

" The Little Gem " and the " Champion of England " are later, 
but among our best and sweetest peas. They do not need the 
juices of the pod so much in cooking, but we think are enough 
sweeter and richer for it to pay for the trouble. Some cooks 
throw in a little sugar to increase the flavor, as they use soda to 
make them tender ; but don't do it unless your taste is so 

CG 



450 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

deficient that you can be satisfied with simple sweetness and 
tenderness, without regard to rich, genuine flavor. For such, any- 
tasteless thing, so that it is sweet and tender, is as good as 
peas. 

Green Peas. — The first rule is to use the peas fresh from 
the vines, every hour's delay in cooking after they are gathered 
destroys something of their finest flavor. Wtish them before 
shelling, never after. Shell and pick over nicely. First put in 
the fresh pods. Press them down, leaving only water enough 
to cover them. Let them boil fifteen minutes, then skim out, 
and put in the peas. If there is more than enough water to 
cover the peas after the pods have been removed, pour it out. 
Let them boil fifteen or twenty minutes. Peas that require more 
than twenty minutes, or need soda to make them tender, are only 
fit for soup. When done, put what butter is needed into the 
dish, and pour the peas on it, adding a little pepper. Some pre- 
fer them dry, and drain them through a strainer, but we think 
some of the water in which they were boiled is a A'^ery great im- 
provement. The amount of butter needed must be decided by 
the quantity of peas and the taste. Boiling the pods adds greatly 
to the sweetness and richness of the peas. 

Beans. — The dwarf wax beans are among the best string 
beans. The pod is very tender and white, almost transparent 
when cooked. The Valentine is also very good. Of the pole- 
beans the Horticultural and Lima are the best. If you cannot 
raise the Lima, the Saba is a good substitute, though by no means 
equal to it. 

In cooking the wax bean, simply cut off the ends, and snap 
the pod in small bits. Put salt into boiling water and then put 
in the beans. If the salt is thrown in before the vegetables, 
they retain their color ; but if salt is added after they are in hot 
water, they will be of a faded olive color when cooked, and not so 
well flavored. String-beans should cook a full hour unless very 
tender. When done put in your vegetable-dish some butter, al- 
lowing an even great spoonful to a pint of string-beans ; add a 
little pepper and pour the beans upon it, with some of the water 
in Avhich they were boiled. Like peas, some prefer them quite 
moist ; those who do not can easily be suited by having theirs 



VEGETABLES. 451 

taken out free from the liquor. Lima beans are not good to use 
lor string-hcans, but the beau itself is delicious. It requires a 
lull hour to boil. AVhen ready to dish, season the same as peas 
or string-beans. Many consider cream an addition both for peas 
and beans, but we think much of the peculiar delicacy is lost by 
it. The more simple such articles can be prepared the more of 
the true flavor is retained. 

Asparagus. — Wash it clean, but do not leave in water. Cut 
olf all of the white ends that are woody and tough, and when 
ready to boil tie up the stalks in a neat bunch, lay them in the 
saucepan, sprinkle over as nruch salt as is needed to season, 
then just cover the bunch or bunches with boiling water. Cook 
twenty minutes. When done, take the asparagus out and with a 
sharp knife cut off any part that has not cooked tender and 
throw away. Then cut the stalks up into pieces half an inch 
long and put them back into the saucepan with two table-spoonfuls 
of butter to each good-sized bunch ; a little pepper, one cup of 
good cream, and enough finely rolled bread crumbs to thicken it 
a little, say only two even table-spoonfuls. If there is enough 
water left after boiling to make the dish too liquid, pour off part 
of it before returning the asparagus, cream, and bread crumbs 
to the saucepan. Let it all boil up for two or three minutes, 
then dish and send to the table hot. 

Spinach. — Pick and wash it with great care. Put into a 
saucepan that will just hold it ; sprinkle in some salt, and pour 
over only one cup and a half of boiling water ; cover close, set 
on the stove, and shake the pan often to prevent the spinach from 
burning. When done, beat it up with a little butter and pepper. 
It should come to the table quite dry. It looks nicely when 
pressed into a mold in the form of a leaf. Serve with poached 
eggs. 

To Boil Cabbage. — Wash very thoroughly in cold water; 
look between the leaves, where insects and worms are very often 
secreted ; then put into boiling water, some say without any 
salt ; we prefer to add salt, when half done ; boil quickly till 
tender ; then take it out with a skimmer into a colander or sieve, 
and drain free from all water. Season with a little butter and 
pepper. 



452 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

To Boil Cabbage with Meat. — Select small, white, firm 
heads ; cut in ([uarters ; examine carefully ; then lay th". quarters 
an hour in cold salted water, to drive out any insects that may 
have escaped your observation. Skim all the fat from the pot 
in which the pork or beef is boiling, and put in the cabbage while 
the water boils ; cook till tender ; then drain, and serve as whole 
and compact as possible. If the meat is to be used cold, take out 
some of the water in which it is boiling, and put in another kettle 
and boil the cabbage in that, as it gives a disagreeable taste to 
meat when cold. 

Another Way. — After washing and examining the cabbage, 
put it into a kettle of fast-boiling water, into which you 
have put some salt and a small bit of soda. Press it down 
into the water, then let it boil quickly eight minutes ; have on 
hand another kettle of fast-boiling water prepared as above, 
and transfer the cabbage to that ; press it down into the water 
and let it boil twelve minutes more ; meanwhile throw away 
the first water and prepare more like it ; after the second boil- 
ing remove the cabbage once more to another water, and boil 
ten minutes if the cabbage is small, twenty if large ; then take 
it up in a colander, lay a plate over, and drain well ; dish on 
toasted bread that has been dipped in drawn butter, and pour a 
little over the cabbage. 

Cabbage like Cauliflower. — Chop a good, solid head of cab- 
bage fine, as if for cold-slaw. Put it into boiling water. Boil 
till tender ; then drain quite free from water ; season with salt, 
pepper, and butter ; add a cup of cream or milk, and simmer a 
few minutes. Send to table hot. 

Cauliflower. — Soak the head two hours in salt and water, 
and boil until tender in milk and water, if you have plenty of 
milk, if not, boiling water will answer. Serve whole with drawn 
butter, or cut it np and season richly with butter, and a little 
pepper and salt. The first way is the most stylish, the last the 
most palatable. In either case it must be well drained. 

Hot- Slaw. — Cut a firm white head of cabbage in thin shreds ; 
put it into boiling water ; cook till tender ; only just cover with 
water, so that when done there may be hardly any remaining. 
Just before dishing, add to one good-sized head half a teacupful 



CAKE. 453 

of good cider vinegar and a piece of butter half the size of an egg, 
with salt and pepper to suit your taste. 

Cold-Slaw. — Shave a firm head of cabbage fine ; put a tea- 
spoonful of salt, the same of sugar, and a little pepper into a small 
cup of vinegar, and pour over the cabbage. 

To Cook Onions. — The strong, disagreeable taste and smell 
from onions may be in a large degree removed by leaving them 
to soak in cold salt and water an hour after the outside skin has 
been removed ; then boil them in milk and water till thoroughly 
tender ; lay into a deep dish, season with pepper and salt, and 
pour over them drawn butter. 

CAKE. 

GENERAL RULES. 

First examine the range or stove. See that the ashes are 
shaken out, and sufficient coal added to keep the oven in working 
order till your cake is put together and baked ; for fuel should 
never be added while bread or cake is baking. See if the damp- 
ers are all right, and ovens at the proper heat, — a slow, even heat 
for rich cake, a quick heat for plain cake. 

The range being in proper condition, next collect all the in- 
gredients to be used. Line the tins with Inittered paper. 

Sift the flour, then weigh or measure it and the sugar, butter, 
fruit, and milk. Baking-powder or cream of tartar should always 
be sifted in with the flour, which should then be covered up, and 
set near the fire to dry while you are getting other articles ready. 
If Jewell's prejxired floiu- is used, no salt, soda, or cream of tartar 
is needed for anything ; and those ingredients may be omitted in 
using the following receipts. 

Dissolve soda in a little cold water. 

Put the eggs in cold water. They will beat easier and lighter. 
Beat yelks and whites separately. 

Never mix sweet and sour milk. 

When fruit is to be used, it is always better to pick it over, slice 
or stone, and, if need be, wash and dry it, the evening before, cov- 
ering it over closely, to keep from the heat and air. 

Everything being now in readiness, put the butter into a deep 



454 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

earthen dish. Stir it with a wooden spoon till soft, then add 
sugar, and beat until light and white, like thick cream. Next add 
the yelks of the eggs well beaten, then a little of the flour, and very 
gradually the milk, beating the batter steadily ; then add spices, 
and the whites, well beaten to a very stiff foam, with the re- 
mainder of the flour, alternately. Now beat the batter till all is 
thoroughly combined, and you will be sure of light, fine-grained 
cake. 

Fruit should be rolled in floiu- and added the last thing, or 
add it in alternate layers with the batter, as you fill it into the 
pans. Use some of the flour weighed out for the cake to dredge 
the fruit. 

So far it is well ; but quite as much depends on baking, as in 
the preparation of the cake, and if you have not the most trusty, 
reliable servants, your watch and care is not ended. 

Unless a raised cake, it should be put into the oven as soon as 
you h.ive put it into the pans, opening the oven door, after the 
cake is in, as seldom as consistent with proper oversight, as a 
draught of cold air passing through the oven will tend to make the 
cake heavy. 

If the oven is too hot, cover the cake for a while with a piece 
of brown paper. 

Whenever you buy a broom, break off a few of the splints ; tie 
them up and lay away safely to use in trying cake. It is not 
pleasant to think of using a splint from a broom that has been 
used in sweeping a kitchen floor, or any other floor, however 
nicely kept. Try the cake with one of these clean splints, or a 
small knitting-needle. If it comes out quite free from any par- 
ticle of batter, the cake is done. 

Cake keeps fresher to be allowed to remain in the pan in which 
it was baked ; but if necessary to remove it, place it on the top of 
a sieve until quite cold, when it may be frosted if desirable, and 
put into a large stone pot, or cake-safe, and covered with clean, 
linen. 

Steam stale cake, and eat with a nice hot sauce, and you have 
a very good pudding. 

Loaf Cake. — Two cups sugar ; two of milk ; two of flour ; 
one of yeast ; make into a sponge overnight. In the morning, if 



CAKE. 455 

this sponge is light, beat together two cups sugar, one of butter, 
and lour eggs ; add these to the sponge with enough more flour 
to make it quite stiff ; add since and fruit to suit the taste ; a 
cup and a half of stoned rasins, well floured, and half a cup of 
citron cut thin and in small pieces, liaise till light, and bake 
in an even oven. 

Mrs. Breedley's Fruit Cake. — Five eggs ; five cups of floui- ; 
Uvo and a half cups of sugar ; one and a half cups butter, and 
two cups sour milk ; two cups raisins. Beat sugar and butter to 
a cream ; add the egg-yelks and whites, beaten separately ; then 
three cups of the floiu" and the milk ; beat well and then add one 
gill wine, cloves and cinnamon to suit your taste, and the re- 
mainder of the floui- ; and last, one teaspoonfid soda dissolved in 
a very little water. Bake as soon as put together. 

Spices, in all receipts, may be increased or diminished to suit 
the taste. One nutmeg and a teaspoonful of other spices will be 
a medium allowance ; cloves are generally undesirable, except in 
fruit cake. 

Rosie's Raised Cake. — Three cups bread dough, two cups 
sugai', one cup butter, or half-cup bvitter and half-cup lard, two 
eggs, nutmeg to suit the taste, one wineglass of wine, half a tea- 
spoonful of soda, one pound of raisins chopped or stoned ; beat 
all thoroughly together, and let it stand to rise till quite light. 
Always roll raisins in plenty of flour before putting into the 
dough, to prevent their sinking. 

Fruit Cake. — Tliree cups sugar, half a pound butter, four cups 
flour, three eggs well beaten, one cup of milk, two nutmegs, two 
pounds of raisins stoned, one pound Zante currants, or half a 
pound of preserved orange-peel sliced very thin and cut fine, one 
teiis]ioonful soda. Bake tAvo hours and a half. 

Farmer's Fruit Cake. — Three cupfuls of sour dried-apples 
soaked overnight in warm water. In the morning drain oft' the 
water, chop not too fine, leaving the apple about as large as raisins, 
then simmer in two cupfuls of molasses two hours or rmtil quite 
done, that is, until the apple has absorbed all the molasses ; one 
and a half cupfuls of butter well beaten ; one of sugar, four eggs, 
one cupful of sweet milk, one teaspoonful of cloves, one of cinna- 
mon, one of nutmeg, one and a half teaspoonfuls of soda, one wine- 



456 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

gLass of wine, four and a half teacup fuls of flour ; add one cup 
raisins or currants, if you please, but roll in flour before putting 
them to other ingredients ; beat all together thoroughly ; bake 
carefully in a well-heated oven. This is excellent to our taste, far 
better than the richer kind, and more easily digested. 

Whortleberry Cake. — Prepare the batter just like Sally 
Lunn, then stir in one coffee-cup of whortleberries rolled in flour 
the last thing before putting into the oven. If the berries are not 
well floured, they will sink to the bottom of the cake and be 
worthless. Stir them in gently and quickly. Bake half an hour. 
Very good for breakfast or tea. 

Olic Cake. — Three pounds of flour, five eggs, three quarters 
of a pound of butter, one and a half pints of milk, one pound of 
sugar, and one penny's worth of bakers' yeast ; beat and knead well 
and put to rise ; knead over every time it rises, — say three times 
a day for three days, — using as little flour as possible at each 
kneading. After the first rising, keep it in the cellar or a cool 
place. When ready for use, break off small bits, flatten with the 
hand, and lay a bit of citron on them ; then roll into a ball and 
fry in boiling lard, like doughnuts. Roll in sugar after they are 
fried. This is a Dutch receipt, and, if properly made, very fine. 
"We have never fried these cakes, but often make a large bowlful 
in cold weather, and keep it on the ice a fortnight at a time, using 
as we want it, kneading it every day an hour before tea, and 
using it for biscuits instead of cake. Let it stand a short time 
to rise, then bake. They are very light and tender. 

Nice little Cakes. — Whites of six eggs left from Spanish 
cream, three and a half cups of flour, two cups sugar, one small 
cup butter, one cup milk, one teaspoonful soda, and two of cream 
tartar. Flavor to taste. 

Queen Charlotte's Cake. — One pound of flour, one of sugar, 
one of raisins (Sultana or stoneless raisins are the best), one hi^lf- 
pound butter, four eggs, one gill brandy, one gill Avine, one gill 
cream, half a nutmeg, half-teaspoonful each cloves and cinnamon. 
Bake in one loaf. 

Lemon Cake. — Two cups of flour, two of sugar, six eggs, six 
table-spoonfuls of butter, four of milk, two teaspoonfuls of cream 
of tartar sifted with the flour, and one teaspoonful of soda. Beat all 



CAKE. 457 

well together, and bake in two loaves. For the jelly to use with 
it, take three fourths of a pound of sugar, one fourth of a pound 
of butter, six eggs, the rind of three lemons grated, and their juice. 
Beat the sugar, butter, and eggs thoroughly together, and set in a 
dish of hot water until heated, then add the grated lemon and 
juice ; stir till thick enough and quite smooth, then split the 
cake and put tins jelly in while warm. It is very delicious. 

Molasses Drop Cake. — One cup of molasses, half a cup of 
butter or lard, half a cup of water, three cups of flour, two tea- 
spoonfuls of ginger, one teaspoonful of soda. Beat well together, 
and dr<:)p with a spoon on a buttered pan or in muffin-rings. Bake 
quickly. 

Chicago Fruit Cake. — One and one fourth pound flour, six 
eggs, one pound sugar, half-pint of milk, three fourths pound but- 
ter, one pound raisins, two teaspoonfuls soda, half a gill molasses, 
three teaspoonfuls mace, one teaspoonful cloves, one of cinnamon, 
one of allspice, one of nutmeg. Beat the yelks and whites of eggs 
separately, and beat the cake well before baking. 

Cider Cake. — Two pounds of flour, one pound of butter, one 
and a quarter pound of sugar, one pound of raisins (stoned), five 
eggs, two teaspoonfuls of soda (only even full), a teaspoonful of 
cloves, cinnamon, and half a nutmeg, and one pint of cider. Put 
in the soda the last thing. 

Snow-flake Cake. — Half a cup of butter, two cups of sugar, 
four of flour, one of sweet milk, three eggs well beaten, one table- 
spoonful cream of tartar, half a teaspoonful of soda ; or, if you use 
prepared flour, use no soda or cream of tartar. Bake the cake 
in shallow jelly-cake pans ; while baking, grate two fresh cocoa- 
nuts carefully, and spread over each cake, as it comes from the 
oven, a thin frosting, and then sprinkle thickly with the grated 
nut. Three layers of cake make one cake. This receipt will 
make two loaves. 

Cocoa-nut Cake. — One coff'ee-cup butter, two and a half sug- 
ar, four and a half of flour, whites of nine eggs beaten stiff, half 
a cup of milk, two cocoa-nuts grated, one small teaspoonful soda, 
two of cream of tartar. Save out a saucer of grated cocoa-nut to 
sprinkle on the frosting after the cake is baked. 

Macaroons. — One pound of sugar, whites of three eggs, one 



458 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

quarter-pound Ijlunched and pounded almonds. Sprinkle sugar 
on paper and dioj) in little round cakes. 

Delicate Cake. — When making cocoa-nut custard (see Pud- 
dings, etc.), use the whites of the eggs as follows : One cup white 
sugar, five table-spoonfuls of butter, whites of six eggs, one teacup 
of sweet milk, three cups of " prepared flour," or to the same quan- 
tity of co:umon flour, add one small teaspoonful of soda, and two 
of cream of tartar sifted in the flour. Flavor with orange, lemon, 
or vanilla. 

Sponge Cake (very good). — Three eggs, one cup of sugar, one 
of flour, three table-spoonfuls of water, and one teaspoonful of 
yeast-powder ; flavor with lemon and nutmeg. 

Pineapple Cake. — Make a cake as for jelly-cake ; bake it in 
three or four jelly-pans ; grate a large ripe pineapple in one bowl 
and a cocoa-nut in another. When the cakes are done, spread over 
one a layer of pineapple, and over that a layer of cocoa-nut ; then 
place the second cake over this, and on that put another layer of 
pineapple and cocoa-nut, and so on till the last ; cover that with 
the pineapple and grated cocoa-nut, and then beat the whites of 
two eggs to a stiff meringue ; lay it over the top, and place the 
cake in the oven just a few minutes to stiffen. 

Molasses Cup Cake (very good). — One cup each, sugar, mo- 
lasses, and milk, three cups flour, half a cup butter, three eggs, 
one table-spoonful ginger, one small even teaspoonful of soda, 
half a teaspoonful of salt. Pour the milk to the flour, beat but- 
ter and sugar to a cream and add to it the salt and ginger, then 
the well-beaten yelks of the eggs ; beat the soda into the molasses, 
and when it foams pour in with the rest, adding the whites of the 
eggs, beaten stiff, the last thing. 

Loaf Cake. — One and a half pints of well-raised sponge, two 
and a half cups sugar, two thirds cup of butter, three eggs, yelks 
and whites beaten separately, half a pound stoned raisins well 
rolled in flour to prevent their sinking to the bottom, half-tea- 
spoonful each cinnamon and cloves, one nutmeg. Beat into the 
sponge a half-teaspoonful soda before adding these ingredients, then 
stir all together thoroughly ; let it stand till quite light, then stir 
up from the bottom with a wooden spoon to prevent raisms from 
settling, and bake slowly. If the sponge is verj^ thin, add a little 
more flour. 



CAKE. 459 

Walnut Cake. — One pound of flour, one of sugar, three quar- 
ters of a pound of butter, one and a half pounds raisms stoned, the 
meats from two quarts of wahiuts, one nutmeg, half a teaspoonful 
of cmnamon, half a cup of milk, one wineglassful of cider or 
wine, six eggs, whites and yelks beaten separately, half a teaspoon- 
ful of soda. Pick over the walnut-meats to see that no bits of shells 
remain ; pour boiling water over to take off the skin, drain and 
rub dry, then mix with raisins, flour well, and stir into the batter. 
Bake in a quick oven, but not scorching hot. 

Loaf Cake. — Two cups of sugar, two of milk, two of flour, one 
of yeast. Make into sponge overnight. In the morning rub to- 
gether two cups of sugar, one of butter, and four eggs. Flour to 
make quite stift' ; one nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves ; if wished, 
one pound of fruit. Raise till light, and bake in an even oven. 

Western Cake. — Four cups of flour, two and a half of sugar, 
one of butter, one of new milk, and five eggs, one teaspoonful of 
soda. S])ice to taste. 

Snowball Cake. — One cup of sugar, half a cup of butter, 
half a cup of sweet milk, two cups of flour, the whites of three 
eggs, half a teaspoonful of soda, one spoonful of cream of tartar 
sifted with the flour ; beat butter and sugar thoroughly together ; 
add the whites of eggs beaten to a stiff foam ; then the flour, and 
milk and soda the last. 

Molasses Cake. — Half a cup of molasses, half-cup sugar, half- 
cup sour milk, piece of butter size of an egg, one egg, two cups 
flour, spices, and a few chopped raisins. Spice with a little gin- 
ger, cloves, and cinnamon. 

Corn-Starch Cake. — One cupful of butter, two of sugar ; 
beat to a white foam ; add four eggs beaten quite stiff", one cup- 
ful of corn-starch, one cupful of milk, two cupfuls of prepared 
flour, and flavor Avith one teaspoonful of bitter almonds. If you 
have no prepared flour, sift one teaspoonful of cream of tartar with 
the flour, and add half a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a tea- 
spoonful of milk, the last thing ; beat thoroughly after the soda 
is added, and bake immediately. 

Moss Cake. — Two cupfuls of sugar, half a cupful of butter, 
three eggs, one cupful of milk, three cupfuls of flour, two tea- 
spoonfuls of cream of tartar sifted with the flour, and one tea- 
spoonful of soda. 



460 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Jenny Lind Cake. — Half-cup butter, one teacup of milk, two 
table-spoonfuls cream, two cups sugar, three eggs, one teaspoon- 
ful cream tartar, half-teaspoonful soda, and four cups flour. Any 
spice that is palatable. 

Sugar Cookies. — One cup butter, two cups sugar, three eggs, 
five cups flour, two table-spoonfuls sour milk (or sweet milk, with 
two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar added), one small teaspoonful 
of soda ; spice to suit your taste. Bake quickly. 

Cookies. — Two cups of sugar, one of butter, one of sweet 
milk, one teaspoonful soda, two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar, 
just flour enough to roll ; rub butter and sugar into the dry flour, 
as if for pastry, and then wet up, using no eggs ; spice to suit the 
taste ; cream of tartar to be sifted in with the flour, soda added 
the last. Be careful not to use too much flour, more can easily 
be added if not stifi" enough. 

Another Way. — Three cups of flour, one cup of sugar a trifle 
heaped, half cup of butter, one third cup half cream and half sweet 
milk, two eggs, half-teaspoonful soda, — if you don't use prepared 
flour ; spice with cinnamon. Work butter and sugar to a smooth 
white cream, then add yelks of eggs, beat well, and then add 
milk and soda ; whites beaten stiff, added the last thing before 
the flour ; make as thin as they can be rolled, putting the hands 
to the dough as little as possible. Much handling makes them 
hard and tough. 

Molasses Gingerbread. — Half a cupful of sugar, half a 
cupful molasses, half a cupful of milk, half a cupful of butter, three 
cupfuls of flour, two teaspoonfuls of ginger, and half a teaspoon- 
ful of ,soda. Beat the sugar, butter, and ginger together ; then 
add the milk, then the flour ; beat the soda into the molasses, 
and as soon as it foams, beat it in with the other ingredients. 
Better beat all together with the hand. Bake it either in a 
shallow 23an or m little cups. This is very nice, if a teaspoonful 
of cinnamon, half a teaspoonful of cloves, and a teacvipful of 
stoned raisins are added, and the whole baked in a loaf. 

Plain Gingerbread. — One cupful of sugar, one of molasses, 
half a cupful of butter, half a cupful of milk, one cupful of raisins 
or currants, two teaspoonfuls of ginger, and one of yeast powder, 
with flour enough to make it as stiff as cup-cake. 



riES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 461 

Excellent Ginger-Snaps. — Boil together one pint molasses, 
one cup butter, one table-spoonful of ginger. Let them only boil 
up once, then set aside to cool. When cold, roll two small tea- 
spoonfuls of soda perfectly smooth, and beat into the molasses ; 
while foaming pour it upon just as little flour as will make it pos- 
sible to roll out very thin. Bake (|uick. 

In measuring by spoonfuls, be careful that the spoon is even 
full, not heaped. Careless measurement spoils many good dishes. 

PIES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 

Pastry. — One quart flour, half-pound butter ; mix half the 
flour with, ice-cold water, stifle enough to roll ; put it on a well- 
floured pasteboard, sprinkle flour over and roll half an inch thick. 
Divide the butter into three parts ; shave one of the three por- 
tions quite thin and put it lightly over the paste, shake one third 
of the dry flour over it, fold the four ends inward, then double 
the sheet together and beat it with the rolling-pin till it is about 
half an inch thick ; shave a second portion of the butter and put 
on the paste, flour, fold up and beat out as at first. Repeat this 
process for the third and last time, using up all the butter and 
flour, and put the paste on the ice for a half-hour. Theif cut off 
a piece large enough to cover a plate, roll out, — always rolling 
I'rom you, — and handle as little as possible ; cover the plate, trim 
it by passing the knife round the plate, cutting iqnoards. (This 
should be borne in mind with all pastry. If cut round the edge 
of the plate upwards, it will be light ; if downwards, it will cling 
to the plate and be heavy.) Cut a strip an inch wide and lay 
round the edge, fill in the fruit or whatever the contents are to 
be, and if it is to have an upper crust roll out, put it on and trim 
as above directed. Prick the top to let out ste/im and prevent 
the waste of the juice. 

Puff Paste. — Half a pound of butter, half a pound of lard, 
one and a quarter pounds of flour ; wet half the flour to a paste ; 
mix the other half with the shortening, chopping it fine, butdo 
not use your hand ; stir together with a silver or wooden spoon. 
Roll the paste out on the board about a quarter of an inch thick, 
and add one third of the mixed flour and shortening ; fold the 
four ends over it, and beat out with the rolling-pin till again a 



462 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

quarter of an incli thick ; spread over it one third more of the 
shortening ; fold over the ends ; beat out thin again ; add the 
remainder of the shortening ; beat, roll out, and use. 

Potato Pastry for Meat Pies. — Six good-sized potatoes, 
boiled and mashed mealy and white, one teacup of sweet cream, 
a teaspoonful of salt, and flour enough to make it stay together 
and roll out. Work and handle as Little as possible, and roll 
thicker than common pastry. 

Pumpkin Pies. — Cut the pumpkin into small pieces ; take 
out the seeds and inside, but do not pare it. It must be a well- 
grown and thoroughly ripened pumpkin, and not watery. Put 
the pieces in a saucepan, with only a few spoonfuls of water, not 
more than four ; cover close and let it cook gently, so as not 
to scorch, until the water has all evaporated, and the pumpkin 
has cooked quite dry and of a rich, dark orange color. While 
hot sift it through a coarse sieve. Season only as much as you 
are needing for the day. For one large pie, one egg, one table- 
spoonful of molasses, four table-spoonfuls of condensed milk, and 
enough of new milk to make it as thin as you wish, or if you 
have it, half milk and half cream, instead of condensed milk ; 
sugar and spice to suit the taste. Ginger and cinnamon are very 
nice. Bake to a clear, rich brown, but do not blister or scorch. 

Dried- Apple Pies. — Wash the apples in several waters, then 
put them into an earthen dish or stone pot, and pour on rather 
more water than will cover them ; for if the apples are good, they 
will absorb a good deal of water and become twice as large by 
soaking. Never soak or cook fruit in tin or iron. A few hours 
should soak the apples sufficiently for cooking. If soaked over- 
night they become insipid. Put them into an earthen pipkin or 
porcelain kettle and cook in the water they are soaked in. If 
you like it, cut up a little dried orange or lemon peel and stew 
with the apples. Some use dried plums with apples, but they 
make it too sharp for our taste. Let them cook slowly, till very 
tender. When they rise up in the kettle, 2^ress them down gently, 
but never stir them. When perfectly tender, before taking from 
the fire, stir in a little butter — about one table-spoonful to a quart 
of cooked apples — and sugar to suit your taste. Season with 
very little nutmeg and cinnamon, if you do not use the orange 



riES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 463 

or lemon peel, — nothing else is needed if yoii do. Bake with an 
upper and iinder crust, but do not make the pie very thick with 
apples. Half an inch deep is sufficient. 

Dried plums and peaches may be prepared in the same way, 
but require no spice. 

Pies of Canned Fruit. — Canned pears, peaches, and quinces 
usually will bear scalding in their own liquor before putting them 
in the pie-plate. When tender, skim out and lay on a dish to 
cool. Then add to the liquor enough sugar to make a syrup, 
more or less rich, according to the taste of those who are to eat 
them. When both fruit and liquor are cold, if the pears, peaches, 
or quinces are in halves, cut them in slices a quarter of an inch 
thick, and lay into the pie-plate ; pour over as much of the syrup 
as it will hold, having fij'st put on the under crust and laid an 
edge of crust around it. Fill the plate not quite an inch thick. 
This is more economical, and, to our taste, much nicer than to 
use the fruit in large pieces. Cut a few small bits of butter (half 
a table-spoonful in all) and lay the spice over ; put on the upper 
crust and bake a rich bro■w^a, but be careful not to scorch the 
crust, as a little scorch spoils the best of pastry. 

Plums must not be scalded before baking, as they come to j)ieces 
very easily, but prepare the liquor in which they are canned the 
same as for pears, peaches, and quinces. 

Mince Pie. — Put a large-sized tongue into boiling water, with 
a little salt and pepper. A fresh tongue is better than one smoked 
and dried. Boil slowly till tender, then take out and dip for a 
minute in cold water ; then peel it, beginning at the tip, as it 
peels easier. Cut off all the gristly parts and chop fine. Pare and 
chop enough of the best flavored sour apples to fill a three-puit 
bowl when chopped. The finer the meat and apples are chopped 
the better the pies will be. Pick over and rub clean one pound 
Sultana, or stoneless raisins, one pound Malaga, or bloom raisins, 
stoned and chopped, and one pound whole raisins. Slice thin 
half a pound citron and half a pound candied orange peel ; chop 
and pick clean from skinny pieces three quarters of a pound of 
suet ; add a table-spoonful salt, five grated nutmegs, one and a 
half table-spoonfuls ground cloves, the same of cinnamon, a pound 
of sugar, half a pint maple syrup, one pint cider, one of Madeira 



464 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

■wine, one of brandy. Syrups from preserves, or small portions 
of jelly of any kind left over, and not sufficient to be put on the 
table again, are a great improvement to mince-meat for pies, beside 
iinding an economical way of use. Put all these ingredients into 
a porcelain kettle, and set over the range to scald, not boil, one 
hour, stii'ring all the time ; then pack in a stone jar and cover 
closely, ready for use. 

Rice Pie. — Take cold rice, cooked with milk, add sufficient 
cream to make quite thin, mash it with a wooden or silver spoon 
till free from lumps. Beat up four eggs very light, — yelks and 
whites separately, — sweeten the rice to suit your taste, and pour 
in the egg, — the whites last; stir well, grate a little nutmeg 
over all ; cover a deep custard or pumpkin pie-plate with pastry, 
pour in the rice, and bake, but not long enough to make the 
custard watery. 

Apple Puffs. — Peel and core as many sour apples as v/ill be 
needed, simmer with a little water till tender, then add a half- 
pound of sugar to a pomid of apples, let it simmer till the apples 
become a kind of marmalade ; take it up, and when cold put it 
into puff paste and bake quickly ; when done ice it, return to the 
oven just long enough to turn the icing golden. 

Marlborough Pie. — One cup stewed apples, sifted ; one cup 
sugar, one cup cream or milk ; one fourth cup butter if cream is 
used, if milk, one third ; half a gill wine, three well-beaten eggs, 
whites whisked separately, and a little nutmeg ; beat sugar, butter, 
and apple together, then add the wine, then milk or cream, nut- 
meg and yelks, adding the whites the last thing. No upper 
crust. 

Chess Pie. — Four eggs, two cups sugar, one of cream, two 
thirds of a cup butter, one table-spoonful flour ; flavor with nut- 
meg. When a delicate brown, try with a spoon as for a custard. 

English Christmas Plum-Pudding. — One pound of clean, 
dry currants, half a pound of the best raisins, stoned ; mix these 
with one pound of bread crumbs, half a pound of fine flour, and 
one pound and a half of finely shred suet ; add a quarter of a 
pound of sifted sugar, one grated nutmeg, a drachm of cinnamon, 
two drachms of cloves, haK a dozen almonds, pounded, and an 
ounce each of candied orange and lemon, sliced thin ; mix all 



riES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 465 

these materials thoroughly together in a bowl, with a glass of 
brandy and one of sherry, then beat six eggs very light, and slow- 
ly stir them in till all is well blended ; cover the bowl, and let 
this mixture stand for twelve hours ; then pour it into a pudding- 
bag, and tie it not very tight, leaving room for it to swell ; or fill 
a pudding-mold not quite two thirds full, lay a clean cloth over 
the top, and shut the cover over tightly to exclude all water ; put 
the bag or mold into boiling water ; keep it covered, and keep 
it boiling all the time, for six hours. Serve with sugar sifted 
over, and wine sauce. Brandy is usually sent in with a Christmas 
pudding, to be poured over the whole pudding, or over each slice, 
then lighted, and served Avhile burning. 

A Family Christmas Pudding. — Beat up four eggs very 
light (which always means yelks and whites beaten separately) ; 
add to the yelks, after Ijeating, a quarter of a teaspoonfid each of 
ginger, nutmeg, grated lemon peel, and salt ; four ounces of sugar, 
half a pound of well-cleaned and dried currants, one pound of 
flour, half a pound of well-shred and chopped suet ; beat this all 
up thoroughly, adding the whites of the eggs last. Wine or 
brandy, or both, may be added, if one has no scruples about 
using them in cooking ; but the pudding will be good without 
this addition. Tie it in a cloth or pudding-bag, or put it into a 
mold, and boil six hours. Serve with any good sauce. 

In boiling puddings of all kinds, the cloth should be dipped 
in hot water before the batter is put in, or the mold be well 
buttered. Any of these Christmas puddings may be kept for a 
month after boiling, if the cloth in which they are boiled be re- 
placed by a clean one, and the pudding be hung up to the ceiling 
of a kitchen, or in a warm store-room. When wanted, they 
will require one hour's boiling to heat them through, as all such 
puddings should be sent to the table hot. 

A Simple Christmas Pudding. — Six ounces of finely 
chopped suet, six ounces of Malaga raisins, stoned and chopped ; 
eight ounces of well-cleaned and dried currants, three ounces of 
fine bread crumbs, three ounces of flour, three well-beaten eggs, 
the sixth part of a nutmeg, grated ; half a teaspoonful each of 
cinnamon, cloves, and mace ; four ounces of sugar, half a teaspoon- 
ful of salt, half a pint of milk ; one ounce of candied orange or 
20* D D 



466 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

lemon peel, and the same of citron, all sliced thin. Beat all to- 
gether thoroughly ; pour into a pudding-bag or mold ; put into 
boiling water, and keep it boiling six hours. Serve with sauce to 
suit your taste. 

Bread Pudding. — One quart fine bread crumbs, one cup of 
sugar, two table-spoonfuls of molasses, half-pound suet chopped 
fine, one coffee-cup raisins, half a rind of preserv^ed orange-peel 
or citron cut thin and fine, a very little nutmeg and cinnamon, 
two teaspoonfuls cream of tartar, one small teaspoonful soda, one 
teaspoonful of salt. Stir in milk enough to make it thick as 
pound-cake, beating all thoroughly together ; put it into a but- 
tered pudding-mold, and boil three hours. Be careful to keep 
the water boiling all the time. 

Boiled Indian Pudding. — Two cupfuls of sour milk, two 
spoonfuls of molasses, one teaspoonful of soda, one of salt, half a 
cupful of sifted flour, mixed with enough corn-meal to make a 
batter not very stiff ; half a cupful of chopped suet, from which 
all the stringy substance has been removed ; a cup and a half of 
chopped sweet apples, or huckleberries, dried or fresh, as you 
have on hand. Boil from two and a half to three hours. 

Baked Indian Pudding. — Boil one quart of milk, and pour 
over a pint of sifted Indian meal ; stir it well till the meal is 
thoroughly wet and scalded. Mix three table-spoonfuls of wheat 
flour with one pint of milk, and beat to a smooth batter, entii'ely 
free from Imnps ; then pour it in. with the Indian batter, and 
beat well together. When the whole is lukewarm, beat three 
eggs and three table- spoonfuls of sugar, and mix with the batter, 
together with two table-spoonfuls of molasses ; add two teaspoon- 
fuls of salt, two of nutmeg, cinnamon," or ginger, as you prefer ; 
two great spoonfuls of suet chopped fine, or the same of melted 
butter ; let it bake a few minutes, and then add half a pound of 
raisins and half a pint of milk, which the raisins will soak up. 
Bake till the pudding is of a rich color, but do not let it whey. 

Palmyra, or Date Pudding. — One pound of fresh dates, 
chopped fine and free from stones ; one pound of suet, chopped 
fine ; a quarter of a pound of moist sugar, and a pound of flour. 
Mix all well together ; add a little salt and nutmeg, and make 
into a soft dough with milk. Beat three eggs very stiff", yelks and 



PIES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 467 

whites separately, and add the hist thing. Boil in a pudding-dish 
three hours, or bake slowly two hours. Eat with liquid sauce. 

Sponge-Cake Pudding. — Make a batter as for good sponge- 
cake. Bake on a liat, square pan, so us to be an inch thick, 
when done. When cold, cut it into pieces about three inches 
square ; slice and butter them, and lay each slice together as 
it was before you split it. Make a custard with four eggs and 
a quart of new milk, flavor and sweeten as you like it. Almond 
in the cake, and lemon or vanilla in the custard, are very good. 
Put the buttered slices of cake in a baking dish, so that when the 
custard is poured over them, the dish will be full. Bake half an 
hour ; eat with or without sauce as you prefer. 

Steamed Pudding. — Two eggs, two teacupfuls of sour milk, 
one teaspoonful of soda, a little salt, flour enough to make it 
quite thick, or it will be heavy. Beat this smooth. Add cher- 
ries, raspberries, cun-ants, or any dried fruit you may have. 
Steam two hours, taking care that the water is kept over the 
pudding or bag all the time, and that it does not stop boiling. 
Eat with cream and sugar, hard sauce, or any liquid sauce you 
may prefer. 

A" Excellent Pudding. — One cup of sugar, one cup of 
milk, three eggs, beaten stiff ; one table-spoonful of butter, a 
little clove and cinnamon, about half a teaspoonful of each ; one 
cup of raisins, stoned ; haK a teaspoonful of salt, and three cups 
of prepared flour. Bake quick. Eat with liquid or hard sauce, 
according to taste. We think this would also be excellent 
steamed or boiled. 

Apple and Tapioca Pudding. — Put a teacup of tajiioca 
into a pint and a half of cold water overnight. Before break- 
fast the next morning set it where it will become quite warm, 
but not hot enough to cook. After breakfast pare six good-sized 
sour apples, or eight if not very large ; quarter them and steam 
them in a dish till tender. Lay them into the pudding-dish, stir 
a cup and a half of sugar into the soaked tapioca, add a teacup 
of water and an even teaspoonful of salt, stir together and pour 
over the apple, slice a lemon very thin and lay over the top, bake 
slowly three hours ; eat with butter, with wine sauce, or hard 
sauce, as you prefer. 



468 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Sweet-Apple Pudding. — One pint of scalded milk, half a 
pint of Indian meal, one teaspoonful of salt, six sweet apples 
cut in small pieces, one small teacupful of finely chopped suet, 
two great spoonfuls of molasses, half a teaspoonful of ginger, nut- 
meg, or cinnamon, — whichever is most desirable, — two eggs 
well beaten, and half a teaspoonful soda. Beat all well together, 
put into a pndding-mold, and boil two hours. 

Fig Pudding. — Half a pound of the best figs, washed and 
chopped fine, two teacupfuls of grated bread, half a cupful of 
sweet cream, haK a cupful of sugar, and one cupful of milk. 
Mix the bread and cream, add the figs, then the sugar, and lastly 
tlie milk. Pour the mixture into a mold, and boil three hours. 
Eat -with -wine or hard sauce. 

Barley Cream for Invalids. — Boil two pounds of lean 
veal in one quart of water, add to it a quarter of a pound of pearl 
barley, and boil till it can be rubbed through a sieve. It should 
be about as thick as cream. Add a little salt. 

Apple Float. — One pint stewed and well-mashed apples ; 
whites of three eggs, and four large spoonfuls of sugar, beaten 
until stiff ; then add the apples, and beat all together till stiff 
enough to stand alone. Fill a deep dish with rich cream, or 
boiled soft custard, and pile the float on top. This is excellent 
with other fruits in place of the apples. 

Sago Ptidding. — One dozen tart apples, one and a half cup 
of sago, — soak the sago in water till soft ; peel and core the apples 
and place in a dish, fill the apples with sugar, a very little cinna- 
mon and nutmeg, pour the sago over and bake until the apples 
are cooked. Eat with wine sauce or hard sauce. 

Cocoa-nut Custard. — One pound grated cocoa-nut, one pint 
of rich milk, and six ounces of sugar. Beat the yelks of six eggs, 
and stir them into the milk with the nut and sugar. Put into a 
farina-kettle, or into a small pail which you can set into a kettle 
of boiling water ; stir all the time till very smooth and thick ; as 
soon as it comes to a hard boil, take off and pour into cups. 

Apple Pudding. — One pint of stewed and sifted apples, 
three eggs well beaten, whites and yelks separate, sugar enough 
to make the apple quite sweet, one cup of stoned raisins rolled 
in flour ; half-pint each of milk and cream or condensed milk, 
and a little salt and nutmeg. 



PIES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 469 

Sauce. — One cup of sugar and half a cup of butter, rubbed to 
a cream ; the white of one egg well beaten, a little luitmeg or 
orange, and when ready to serve, stir in two great spoonfuls of 
Ijoiling water ; if preferred, add half a gill of wine instead of 
orange juice. 

Nice Cheap Pudding. — One quart of milk, four table-spoon- 
fuls of Hour, four eggs, six table-spoonfuls of sugar, nutmeg. 
Steam three fourths of an hour. 

Orange Pudding. — Peel five oranges ; cut in thin slices ; 
take out all the seeds. Pour over them a large cupful of white 
sugar. Bring a pint of rich milk to a boil in a farina-kettle ; wet 
a table-spoonful of corn-starch in a little cold milk ; beat the yelks 
of three eggs and pour them into the boiling milk, stirring all 
the time. When it thickens a little, pour over the fruit. Beat 
the whites to a stiff foam ; add a table-spoonful of white sugar 
and pour over the top ; set it in the oven a few minutes to harden, 
but do not bro^v^l it. Eaten hot or cold for dinner or tea. Sub- 
stitute iDerries or peaches for oranges, if you prefer. 

Custard without Eggs. — To one quart of new milk one 
teaspoonful of rennet wine, or a small piece of rennet, a little 
lemon, nutmeg, or vanilla, or any spice you prefer, and one table- 
spoonful of sugar to each quart of milk. If too sweet, the milk 
will not set firmly or quickly. Stir all together, and set by the 
stove or near the fire ; cover closely. It should begin to stiffen 
in an hour. If it does not, add more wine, or rennet. When 
firm, before the whey separates, take out the piece of rennet if the 
skin was used, and set on ice till dimier. To be eaten with sugar 
and rich cream. Nutmeg is always an improvement, even if 
lemon or vanilla is used. 

The wine rennet is nicer than simply the skin, and it is a good 
idea to keep a bottle of -wine with a piece of rennet in always on 
hand, as it is often desirable to have it ready. 

A Quick Pudding. — Bring a quart of milk to the boiling 
point in a farina-kettle or a pail set into boiling water ; add a 
small teaspoonful of salt, two table-spoonfuls of rice or wheat flour, 
wet smooth with cold milk. Stir this in as soon as the milk boils. 
Stir it a few minutes till perfectly smooth, and let it remain in 
the outside vessel of boiling water half an hour. Be sure and 



470 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

keep the water in receiver or saucepan boiling hard around the 
inner one all the time. Eat with butter and sugar, or thick cream 
and sugar. 

This is very healthful, especially in the summer, and in- 
valuable for invalids, or children suffering with summer com- 
plaint. When used as a remedy or preventive, it should boil 
longer, say one hour. 

Rice Meringue. — Pick over one teacup of rice, wash clean, 
and boil in water until it is soft. When done, drain all the water 
from it. Let it get cool and then add one quart of new milk, the 
well-beaten yelks of three eggs, three table-spoonfuls of white 
sugar, and a little nutmeg ; pour into a baking-dish and bake half 
an hour. Let it get cold ; then beat the whites stiff, add two 
great spoonfuls of sugar, flavor with lemon or vanilla, and spread 
it over the pudding, and slightly brown it in the oven. Be care- 
ful not to let it scorch. 

Sago Pudding. — One dozen tart apples, one and a half cups 
of sago, soak the sago in water till soft ; peel and core the apples 
and place in a dish ; fill the apples with sugar, a very Little cinna- 
mon and nutmeg, pour the sago over, and bake until the apples 
are cooked. Eat with wine or hard sauce. 

Lemon or Orange Honeycomb. — Sweeten the juice of 
two oranges or lemons. Beat the whites of two eggs into a quart 
of rich cream, and whisk it ; as the froth rises, skim off and lay 
on the lemon or orange juice. Whisk until you have the whole 
frothed and laid on the jiiice. It makes a pretty and agreeable 
dish. It should be prepared the day before needed, and set in a 
cool place. 

Apple Snow. — Stew fine flavored, sour apples ; sweeten and 
flavor to suit your taste ; strain, and to one quart of sifted apples 
allow the whites of four eggs. Whisk them to a stiff froth ; then 
put the apple and whites together, and continue to whip until 
they are so stiff you can turn the dish upside down without the 
mass falling off. Eat with cream or with bread and milk. 

Snow Pudding. — Dissolve one box Cox's gelatine in one 
pint of boiling water ; add two cups sugar and the juice of one 
lemon ; strain when nearly cold ; beat the whites of three eggs 
to a stiff froth, add them to the gelatine ; beat all well together 



PIES, PUDDINGS, AND DESSERTS. 471 

and put into a moki to shape it and let it get cold. Then take 
the yelks of three eggs, beat and add to a pint oi' rich milk, one 
teaspoonful corn-starch, flavor with vanilla, and boil in a I'arina- 
kettle. When you wish to serve, empty the mold of gelatine, 
etc. into the dish, and pour the custard over. In boiling the 
custard, be careful not to cook it too much ; stir all the time, and 
the moment it begins to set or thicken remove it. If cooked too 
long it will whey. 

Cocoa-nut Pudding or Pies. — Break the nut, save the 
milk ; take out the meat and grate it very fine ; take equal 
weight of sugar and cocoa-nut, and half the qviantity of butter ; 
rub the butter and sugar to a cream ; take five eggs, whites and 
yelks beaten sepai'ately very stiff ; one cup of milk and the 
milk of the cocoa-nut, and a little grated lemon. Line the dish 
with a nice paste, put in the pudding, and bake one hour. Cover 
the rim with paper to prevent burning. This receipt will answer 
equally as well for pies as for pudding. It will make three pies. 

Bohemian Cream. — Four ounces of any fruit you choose, 
which has been steamed soft and sweetened. Pass the fruit 
through a sieve, and add one and a half ounces of melted or dis- 
solved isinglass to a half-pint of fruit ; mix it well together ; 
then whip a pint of rich cream, and add the fruit and isinglass 
gradually to it. Then pour it all into a mold ; set it on ice or 
in a cool place, and when hardened or set, dip the mold a 
moment in warm water, and turn it out on a dish, ready for the 
table. 

Spanish Cream. — Dissolve three quarters of an ounce Cox's 
gelatine in one half-pint of water ; take one pint milk, one pint 
cream, the well-beaten yelks of five eggs, five table-spoonfuls of 
sugar. Sift all well together. Flavor with vanilla, lemon, or 
orange, or any flavor most agreeable. Put into a farina-kettle 
and boil till it just begins to turn. If done too much it will be 
watery, or wheyey, which spoils it. When thickened like a smooth 
rich cream, stir in the dissolved gelatine, pour into molds, and 
set in the refrigerator or a very cool place to harden. Beat up 
the whites of the eggs and pour over the top of the cream after 
you have removed it from the mold to the glass dish, for the 
table. 



472 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Rennet "Wine. — Buy a dried rennet in market, or get a fresh 
one from the butcher's and prepare and dry it yourself. When 
well dried and cured, cut it in pieces of one or two inches ; put 
it into a large bottle and fill up with Madeira wine ; for a good- 
sized rennet add from three pints to two c[uarts of wine. It will 
keep for a year or two. 

Cold Custard. — Warm one quart of milk as warm as when 
just milked ; sweeten and flavor to suit your taste ; stir into it two 
table-spoonfuls of rennet wine, and turn it at once into the dish 
in which it is to be sent to table. 

Baked Apples. — Core some Baldwin pippins, or any other 
fine-flavored tart apple. Sprinkle sugar on the bottom of a deep 
dish, and set the apples into the dish with two or three on top. 
Fill the holes with sugar ; cover the lower apples with water, and 
bake one hour. A little cinnamon, nutmeg, or lemon will be an 
improvement for those who like fruit seasoned. 

Apple Snovr. — Stew some fine-flavored sour apples tender, 
sweeten to taste ; strain them through a fine wire sieve, and 
break into one pint of strained apples the white of an egg ; whisk 
the apple and egg very briskly, till quite stiff, and it will be as 
white as snow ; eaten with a nice boiled custard, it makes a very 
desirable dessert. 

Season with a very little nutmeg and cinnamon, add a little 
butter, and bake in good pastry, and you will have a very good 
apple pie. 

PRESEEVES AND JELLIES. 

To Can Peaches. — We find the folio-wing mode of canning 
peaches in " Tilton's Journal of Horticulture," published in Bos- 
ton. That journal is always so reliable, that we have no hesita- 
tion in giving these directions to our readers : " Take large ripe 
peaches, ■ — not over-ripe, — halve and pare neatly and lay on a 
large meat-dish. To a three-peck basket of fruit allow four 
pounds of sifted sugar ; sprinkle it over the fruit as you lay it in 
the dish ; when done set it in a cool place overnight ; the next 
morning fit each piece, one by one, nicely into the jar, draining 
them from the juice. When the jars are all filled put them close 
together in a kettle of cold water, putting a double towel or some- 



PRESERVES AND JELLIES. 473 

thing of the kind under them, in the hnttoni of the kettle, to 
prevent their cracking, and set over the fire. Let the water heat 
gradually till it boils, while you prepare the syrup from the juice 
that has been formed from the peaches and sugar overnight, 
then fill up the jars with it, being careful to let the bubbles of 
air escape ; they will be seen rising to the top ; if any are in the 
lower part of the jar they will rush up on the insertion of a fork. 
When all are full begin to seal up, and have a large pan of hot 
water standing near to put the jars in as fast as sealed, where they 
can cool off gradually. 

"Where one has glass jars or bottles, without tight-fitting 
covers, prepare a cement of one poimd rosin to two pounds of 
mutton-suet, melted together and well mixed ; have pieces of 
strong muslin cut large enough to tie over the mouths of the jars 
or bottles ; lay the muslin on a board and with a spoon spread 
over a thick coating of cement ; take tip the muslin quickly, be- 
fore it has time to cool, and put it on the jar with the cement 
side downward, pressing it closely over the sides. If the muslin 
is not very thick it is well to spread more cement on top of the 
first cover, and lay over that a second piece of muslin, then tie 
down with twine and finish with a good coat of cement over all. 
This is a good way to use up old jars whose covers have been 
broken or lost." 

Mixed Marmalade. — Apples or pears mixed with quince 
make very pleasant marmalade. They should be pared and cut 
in small pieces ; just cover them with water, or boil the cores 
and skins first and use the liquor to boil the fruit in ; stew the 
fruit till it can be mashed with a wooden spoon ; when well 
mashed add the sugar, three fourths of a pound of sugar to a 
pound of fruit (of course the fruit is weighed before beginning to 
cook) ; let it cook slowly for two or three hours, the longer it 
cooks the more solid it will be when cold. Pear, quince, and 
apple marmalade are made in the same way. With pears, if 
very mild, many add the juice and grated rind of lemons, to suit 
the taste, to the sugar. 

Jellies. — In making jellies of apricots, quinces, peaches, ajiples, 
or plums, peel, remove the stones or cores, cut in pieces, cover 
with water and boil gently till well cooked ; then strain the juice 



474 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

gently through a jelly-bag, and add a half-pint of sugar to a pint 
of juice (for berries a pound of sugar to a pint of juice) ; boil 
till it ropes from the spoon, or from fifteen to twenty minutes. 
In making raspberry jelly, use one third currants and two thirds 
raspberries. 

Peach Jelly — Cut peaches in half, peel them, and take out 
the pits from the stones ; make a clear syrup of a pound of white 
sugar to half a teacup of water. Whien made and boiling hot 
put in the peaches and part of th.e pits, — too many pits give a 
bitter flavor, ^ — boil gently ten minutes, then put half of the 
peaches on a platter, and boil the other half ten minutes 
longer ; mix with the liquor of the peaches the strained juice of 
three lemons or oranges, and one ounce of isinglass or Cox's gel- 
atine, that has been first dissolved and strained ; fill the molds 
half full of jelly, let it stand till set, then add the rest of the 
peaches, and fill the molds with jelly. One dozen peaches will 
make a good-sized moldful. It is a very handsome table orna- 
ment, and very palatable. 

Quince Jelly. — Boil the quince peelings, cores, and such of 
the fruit as you do not wish to can till soft, in just enough water 
to cover ; then put into jelly-bags wrung out of hot water ; hang 
the bags by strings on a stick laid across two chairs or benches, 
with a dish underneath, and let it drain without squeezing till 
the juice is all run out ; then to every pint of juice weigh three 
quarters of a pound of sugar, put it into a large platter or a deep 
dish, and set in the oven to get hot, but not browned, while th.e 
juice in the preserving-kettle is brought to a boil ; when it be- 
gins to boil skim clear, and then pour in the hot sugar, stir all 
well together, skim clear, boil fifteen minutes, and dip into hot 
jelly-glasses. 

To Preserve Quinces. — Select the fairest quinces, pare, cut 
in half, and remove the core neatly ; then weigh, using a quarter 
of a pound of sugar to one of fruit ; boil the qvunces until tender 
in enough water to cover them, and when done take carefully up 
on a platter. To make your syrup, use half a pint of the water 
in which the fruit was boiled to each poimd of sugar. When 
skimmed clear, boil the quinces in the syrup five minutes ; have 
the cans hot, and fill while the fruit and syrup are boiling hot ; 
seal each can, or close the coati'S tightly, as fast as filled. 



PRESERVES AND JELLIES. 475 

Candied Orange Peel. — Cut the fruit into quarters length- 
wise, take out the pulp and put the peels in strong salt and water 
for two days, then take them out and soak for an hour in cold 
water, after which put them into a preserving-kettle with fresh 
cold water and boil till the peels are tender, when they should 
be put on a sieve to drain. Make a thin, syrup of a quart of the 
water in which they were boiled and a pound of sugar, and sim- 
mer the peels in it for half an hour, when tliey will look clear ; 
pour the peels and syrup into a bowl together, to stand till the 
next day, when you must make as much syrup as will cover 
them, of the proportion of a pound of sugar to a pint of water, 
boiling it till it will fall from the spoon in threads ; put the 
peels into this syrup, boil half an hour, then take them out, 
drain on a sieve, and as the candy dries transfer them to a dish 
to finish in a warm place. When dry, store them for use. This 
receipt is useful for any lemon, orange, or citron peel, and per- 
fectly wholesome. 

Apple and Quince Sauce. — Pare, quarter, and core one 
peck of sweet apples and half a peck of quinces ; then weigh 
both together ; save all the cores and peels that are free from 
specks or worms ; put these into a preserving-lc^ttle, just cover 
with water, and boil twenty minutes ; strain and ponr the liquor 
over the quinces, cover closely, and let it boil till about half done, 
then add the apples ; stir occasionally to prevent its burning, 
being careful to break the pieces as little as possible. When 
done so that a straw or knitting-needle will pass easily, add half 
a pound of sugar to every pound of fruit, stir it in gently, cover 
again closely, and leave it on the back part of the stove to sim- 
mer a short time, say twenty minutes, till the sugar is thoroughly 
incorporated with the fruit. Then pack in stone pots and cover 
closely. It is a very excellent substitute for apple-butter, and to 
most tastes more palatable. 

Apple Sauce. — Take sweet cider, as soon as it comes from 
the cider-press, before it has passed through any change. Boil it 
down nearly half ; then pare and quarter as many of the best sour 
apples as you wish to " do up " ; cover them with the cider when 
boiling hot, and cook till well done ; but not so as to lose their 
shape. Most of the cider will be absorbed by the apples. What 



476 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

remains can be bottled for future use. When done, put into jars, 
and cover or cement. 

Or, if only needed for daily sauce, let the apples boil longer, 
stirring often, luitil it becomes like marmalade. 

This makes not only a most delicious sauce, but is very health- 
ful, as all the nourishment of the apples from which the cider is 
made is retained, and the stimulating or alcoholic properties are 
dispelled by boiling before fermentation takes place, and we lose 
the sharp, biting taste of the old apidle-lutter made from boiled 
cider. 

Baked Pears. — Take ripe pears, juicy and of a good flavor, 
— not ripe enough to be very soft. Wipe them clean, put them 
into a stone jar, stems upward ; when the bottom of the jar is 
covered, sprinkle over sugar (the nature of the pear must de- 
termine the quantity of sugar needed ; some are so sweet that 
they require but little). Set in another layer of pears ; add more 
sugar, and so on till the jar is full. Put in a pint and a half of 
water for every gallon that the jar contains ; cover the top of the 
jar with a paste of simple flour and water, and bake in a slow 
oven two hours. 

CHEESE. 

Stilton CJieese is one of the richest kinds. The cream of one 
day's milk is added to the warm new milk of the next. In Eng- 
land they are made in a deep hoop or vat containing from eight 
to ten pounds, and are not considered of proper age for the table 
till two years old. Little blue spots through the cheese, not at 
all 'like those on common moldy cheese, is the test of ripeness. 
We have seen them made in a two-quart hoop. They require 
very careful handling, and are very fine (we think more agree- 
able) at a year old than when left to the age that epicures love 
best in cheese. 

The Cottenham Cheese is a variety of cream cheese manufac- 
tured in Cottenham, near Cambridgeshire, that is considered 
superior to the Stilton, as the herbage upon which the cows feed 
gives the milk a peculiar fragrance. 

The Parmesan is made in several parts' of Lombardy. It is quite 
celebrated. Many suppose it is made from goat's milk, but it is 



CHEESE. 477 

simply from cow's milk skimmed. The meadows of the Po are 
noted for extremely rich herbage, and the peculiarities of the 
Parmesan cheese are owing in part to this, together with the 
mode of manufacturing it. Half the milk to be used is allowed 
to stand sixteen hours, the other half but six. It is then heated 
and coagulated in a boiler, and broken up fine, without removing, 
by sticks with cross-wires ; then scalded once more till the curd 
has separated from the whey and become quite firm. It is then 
taken out, drained, salted, and pressed. The best Parmesan 
cheese is kept four years before cutting. 

The Cheddar is similar to the Parmesan ; but very little of the 
best quality is now made, and that which is generally imported 
for it is inferior. 

The Duulop is one of the best Scottish cheeses, made only 
of new milk, but there is nothing peculiar in the mode of mak- 
ing it. 

A peculiar kind of cheese in Lincolnshire is known in London 
as Neil) Glieese. It is made wholly from cream, or sometimes 
morning's milk, warm from the cow, is used, and the cream of 
the day before added to it. It is made quite thin, pressed gently 
two or three times, then left to cure for a few days, when it is 
ready to be sent to market for immediate use. It is greatly es- 
teemed for eating with radish and salad. This cheese is easily 
made in any family when sufficient cream can be spared. Stir in 
a table-spoonful of rennet to a quart of warm cream ; when the 
curd is " set," spread a cloth over a sieve and lay the curd into it 
to stand for twenty-four hours, when it may be put into a small 
hoop, a wet cloth and a board laid on top, to press and drain it 
a little, and in a few hours it will be ready for use. 

The Swiss Cheese has a peculiar flavor and richness, which can 
be gained only from the mountain pastures. Some varieties are 
mottled and highly flavored by the bruised leaves of the melilot. 

In Sage or Green Cheese, the curd is colored and flavored by 
bruising the fresh green leaves of sage, marigold, parsley, or corn 
leaves, and mixing with the curd. Among the Romans it was 
customary to flavor with thyme and other sweet herbs. 

Cream Cheese is simply, cream dried sufficiently to be cut with 
a knife. Green rushes are plated or sewed together and laid on 



478 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

the bottom of the hoop, which must have holes all through it for 
the whey to run off freely. On these rushes a quantity of good 
thick cream is laid ; another plait of rushes or Indian-corn leaves 
is put on top of the cheese, so that it may be turned without 
handling. The cheese should not be more than an inch to an 
inch and a half thick. The thinner it is made the sooner it 
rij)ens. It is now kept in a warm place for a few days to sweat 
or ripen, but it requires much care and good judgment, as too 
great heat or cold is injurious. 

In Thuringia and Saxony a cheese is made of five pounds of the 
best potatoes, half steamed, pulverized and reduced to a pulp, 
and well beaten and mixed into ten pounds of sweet curd ; a 
little salt is added, then it stands three or four days, and is again 
thoroughly broken up and kneaded, and then pressed into little 
baskets for the whey to drain off, then made into balls and dried 
in the shade. They keep well, and improve with age, and are 
said to excel in flavor the best cheeses made in Holland. 

We are indebted for much information respecting foreign 
cheese to Webster's "Encyclopedia of Domestic Economy," a 
very useful and valuable work for all housekeepers. 

Cheese Straus. — Quarter of a pound of puff paste, and a 
quarter of an ounce of good cheese, gTated very fine, a little salt 
and cayenne pepper mixed with it. Sprinkle the cheese, salt, 
and pepper over the paste, and roll it out two or three times. 
Cut the paste into narrow strips about five inches long ; bake in 
a slow oven, and serve very hot. 

PICKLES. 

Peach Pickles. — Select the finest and fairest fruit (we pre- 
fer Rareripes or Honest Johns to Morris Whites or Malacatoons, 
but that is a matter of taste), weigh the peaches, and for every 
pound of fruit take a full pound or slightly heaped quart of 
granulated sugar ; put one gill of good cider vinegar and half a 
gill of water to every six pounds of sugar ; put the vinegar and 
water into the preserving-kettle first, then add the sugar, set 
the kettle on the back part of the range or stove where it will 
dissolve gradually. While the sugar is melting prepare the 
peaches ; pour boiling water over a few at a time, and then rub 



PICKLES. 47t) 

each one carefully with a soft towel to take off a thin skin with- 
out disfiguring the peach ; as you peel throw them into cold 
water to prevent their turning black. When all are peeled, or if 
two are working at them, as one peels let the other stick a clove 
and two small pieces of cinnamon, or two or three cassia-buds 
into each peach, and occasionally put in two cloves, but not often, 
as too many cloves make them bitter. While preparing the sugar 
over the fire, and after waiting a suitable time, if you find it will 
not dissolve without more water, add some, but only a little at a 
time, say half a cupful. It is difficult to tell just how nmch 
water is needed, as some sugar melts more readily and with less 
water than others ; for this reason it is wise to add the water by 
degrees, as for sweet peach pickles it is desirable to use just as 
little water as possible. Bring the syrup to a boil just as soon as 
possible after you have all the fruit prepared ; skim as fast as the 
scmn rises, and Avhen clear put in as manj^ peaches as will cover 
the surface of the syrup without crowding and bruising ; let them 
boil up for three or four minutes, turn over carefully in syrup 
that both sides may be cooked evenly, and then remove into two- 
quart stone jars, with nicely fitting covers, taking care not to 
break the fruit ; dip out a cup or two of syrup to each jar, cover 
over and set on the side of the range to keep hot for a little while, 
till you have others filled to take their place. Fill each jar 
full of fruit. When all the peaches have been thus cooked and 
removed to jars, pour in as much syrup as they will hold and 
allow the cover to fit closely. Put them aside for three or four 
days, then drain oft" all the syrup and heat it again ; when boiling 
hot fill up the jars agam, and cover up. Repeat the scalding again 
in a week's time, unless you find the peaches were so ripe as to 
have cooked enough to endanger their falling to jueces. In that 
case another scalding would injure them. To seal up jars, cut a 
l)iece of old cotton or linen, large enough to cover over the top 
and come half an inch over the side, leaving it loose so the cover 
will fit in, dip the cloth in the white of egg to seal it down over 
the edge, place on the cover, then wet plaster of Paris quite soft 
and spread over the top and so far over the sides as to cover the 
cloth. The plaster hardens immediately, and you have a solid 
cover ai once, and air-tight ; wet only as much at a time as will 



480 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

be needed for one jar, as it stiffens so soon. Put on sufficient to 
entirely luiry the stone cover. 

Pickled Plums. — Prick the plums with a sharp needle, else 
they will fall to pieces badly when you put in hot syrup ; tie the 
cloves and cassia-buds in a cloth, or throw loose into the syrup, 
instead of sticking them into the plums. Of course they are 
not thrown into boiling water like peaches, as it is desu-able to 
preserve them as whole and perfect as possible. Except in these 
two particulars, proceed as with the peaches. 

For extra rich pickles, when boiling the sp'up the second time, 
add one third more sugar than was used to make the first syrup. 
This gives a very rich fine flavor ; the small amount of vinegar 
used at first prevents its being too sweet. 

Some prefer peaches, when pickled, quite sour. In that case a 
pint of vinegar and three pounds of sugar to every seven pounds 
of peaches is the common proportion, with cloves and cassia-buds 
or cinnamon, as in the first receipt; cassia-buds are milder and 
less woody in taste than cinnamon. 

Pears and crab-apples, prepared like peaches, make a fine 
pickle. 

Green Tomato Pickles. — Slice half a peck of full-grown 
tomatoes just ready to turn red. They are more crisp if you can 
secure them after there has been almost a frost, not enough to 
turn the vines black. Slice very thin, cut off the blossom and 
stem ends and throw away. For every gallon of sliced tomatoes 
take twelve large green peppers, — the bell pepper is the best. Put 
a layer of sliced tomatoes into an earthern or wooden dish, then a 
layer of peppers, sprinkle over a handful of salt, then more 
tomatoes and peppers, adding salt to each layer till all are put in. 
A pint of salt is sufficient for a gallon. Press this down and 
place a weight on the plate or wooden cover. A metal cover will 
not answer. Let it stand till morning, when it should be put in 
a sieve or hung up in a strainer to drain. Put three quarts of 
best cider vinegar over the fire to scald. Tie up in a cloth two 
cups of white mustard seed, half a cup of sliced horse-radish, half 
an ounce of whole cloves, and the same of cinnamon and allspice, 
and throw into the vinegar. When the brine has all drained 
from the tomatoes, pack them closely in a stone pot and poiir the 



PICKLES. 481 

boiling spice and vinegar over it. Lay over them a plate isniall 
enough to fit inside tlie pot, and put a smooth clean stone on the 
phite to keep the pickle under the vinegar. Let it stand a few 
days, and then scald again. Some like part of the spices sprinkled 
through the tomatoes rather than have all tied in a bag. Some 
prefer the spices ground, and many prefer the tomatoes and peppers 
chopped, not very fine, rather than sliced. Either way they make 
a fine pickle. 

To Pickle Green Tomatoes. — Slice thin in separate plates 
green tomatoes and onions ; allow half a dozen of large green 
peppers to one peck of tomatoes. Take a large earthen or wooden 
bowl and lay in a layer of tomatoes and a layer of onions, sprinkling 
in a table-spoonful of salt to each layer ; continue this until you 
have packed together all you wish to pickle. Then turn a large 
plate or clean dry board over the tomatoes, and put some heavy 
weight, a stone, on top and let it stand till morning ; then drain 
off all the salt and juice, and pour over boiling vinegar, strongly 
spiced with cinnamon, cloves, and very little allspice and ginger, 
Avhich should be tied in a little bag, and removed when the vine- 
gar is poured over ; cover close and let them stand a week, when 
the vinegar should be poured off, the pickles thoroughly drained, 
and cold vinegar poured over the tomatoes. Some chop the 
onions pretty fine after they are drained from the salt. 

Pickled Nasturtiums. — Gather the seed when green and 
not fully grown, and drop them into vinegar as you pick them. 
When you have a sufficient quantity scald the whole in vinegar, 
and bottle them or soak them twelve hours in brine ; then drain 
and pour over boiling vinegar, with whole black peppers and 
allspice tied in a bag. They are often used as substitutes for 
capers, and the flowers and young seeds are used in salads. 

Pickled Cauliflower. — Select the most perfect ; break ofl" 
the flowers, as they woxild naturally part. Put a layer of them 
in ajar and sprinkle over salt ; then another layer of cauliflower ; 
then salt, and so on. Let them soak two days ; then wash off the 
salt and let them drain well ; then pack in a jar or bottle, and 
pour over boiling spiced vinegar. In a few days, if necessary, 
heat the vinegar again, and pour over them, and cover or cork 
closely. 

21 EE 



482 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Tomato Pickles. — Slice half a peck of green tomatoes very 
thin ; sjirinkle over them half a jsint of salt ; slice half a dozen 
onions and three large peppers full grown, but before they have 
turned red ; add these to the tomatoes ; let them stand twenty - 
four hours, then drain them perfectly free of the licjuor or brine ; 
mix with them one table-spoonful of black pepper, one of allspice, 
one of mustard, half a table-spoonful of cloves, and the same of 
cinnamon all finely powdered ; to this add a quarter-pound of 
whole mustard-seed ; stir all well together and just cover with 
good cider vinegar. Boil this mixture mitil as thick as jam, stir- 
ring often to prevent its bui^ning. 

To Pickle Onions. — Choose all of a size ; peel and pour on 
them boiling salt and water ; cover close, and when cold drain 
the onions, and put them into jars or bottles. For white onions, 
fill up with hot distilled vinegar ; for colored onions, use white 
wine vinegar ; for both, add ginger, two or three blades of mace 
and whole pepper. If the onions are soaked in milk a little 
while after peeling, it will preserve their color. 

Another way is to soak the onions in brine three or four days, 
then drain and pour on cold boiled vinegar, with spices. This 
will insure their being crisp. 

To Pickle Red Cabbage. — Select the purple-red cabbage, 
take off the outside leaves, quarter, and take out the stalk, then 
shred the cabbage into a colander or small basket, and sprinkle 
with common salt. Let it remain a day or two, then drain and 
put into jars ; fill up with boiling vinegar, spiced with ginger and 
black pepper, in the same proportions as for the cucumbers, and 
add a few slices of red beet-root ; some add a few grains of 
powdered cochineal. If the vinegar is hoilecl, and then allowed 
to stand until cold before pouring over the cabbage, it will better 
insure its crispness, but will not keep so well as if put on boiling 
hot. 

Cucumber Pickles. — The small long kind are the best for 
pickling, and those but half grown are nicer than the full grown. 
Let them be freshly gathered ; pull off the blossom ; but do not 
rub them ; pour over them a strong brine boiling hot ; cover 
close, and let them stand all night. The next day put your hand 
in the jar or tub and stir gently, to remove all sand ; drain on a 



PICKLES. 483 

sieve, and tlaMi dry in a cloth. Make a pickle with the best 
cider vinegar, adding spice in the following proportions : To each 
qnart of vinegar put half an ounce of whole bhick pepper, the 
same of ginger and allspice, and one ounce of mustard-seed. If 
the flavor is agi-eeable, add four shalots and two cloves of garlic 
to a gallon of vinegar. When this pickle boils up, throw in the 
cucumbers, and make them boil as quickly as possible three or 
four minutes. Put them in a jar with the boilmg vinegar, and 
cover closely. When cold, put in a sprig of dill, the seed down- 
ward, if you like it. Made in this way they will be tender, crisp, 
and green. If the color is not quite clear enough, pour off the 
\"inegar the next day ; boil \\\), and ]>our over the cucumbers ; 
cover perfectly tight. 

To Pickle small Cucumbers and Gherkins. — Choose small 
perfect gherkins or cucumbers ; spread on platters, mix a small 
bit of alum, piilverized, with salt, and cover them ; let them lie 
in this a week. Then drain them, put them into a jar, cover with 
boiling vinegar, and cover it thick with grape-leaves. Set them 
near the fire. If they do not become tolerably green after an hour 
or so, pour the vinegar into another jar, set it on the hot range or 
hearth until too hot lo bear your hand in it, but do not let it hoil, 
then pour again over the pickles, cover Avith fresh leaves ; repeat 
this till they are as green as you wish. 

Tomato Catsup. — Wash and drain two bushels of fair, ripe 
tomatoes ; cut out the stems and any imperfect spot ; put the 
fruit into a kettle, giving each one a squeeze to break the skin as 
you throw them in (a brass kettle, scoured j)erfcctlij bright, is the 
best, as being less hkely to burn on the bottom than the porce- 
lain kettle). Cut up twelve ripe bell-pejiiiers and as many onions, 
and put with the tomatoes. Set the kettle over the fire and let 
the fruit cook two hours, stirring often from the bottom to pre- 
vent the tomatoes sticking or burning. Then strain through a 
wire sieve, or )>etter still a patent scoop and sieve combined, 
made of tin; with a crank or handle to turn the paddle, which 
easily presses the juice and meat tlirough the strainer at the bot- 
tom, leaving seeds and skins inside. When strained, add a pint 
and a half of salt, a quart of vinegar, three table-spoonfuls of 
ground cinnamon, three of black pepper, two ef cloA^es, two of 



484 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

allspice, two of mace, and cue of ginger. Boil slowly twelve 
hours. Of course it cannot be finished in one day ; but at night 
must be emptied from the kettle into large wooden or earthen 
bowls, covered over closely, and left to stand till morning. The 
brass kettle should be well cleaned and dried as soon as emptied, 
that no verdigris may form in or around it, and to be all ready 
for use the next day. In the morning put the catsup up into the 
kettle again, and boil slowly all day, or till as thick as rich cream, 
so that no clear liq^uid will rise to the top. Stir often from the 
bottom ; as it thickens it will stick to the bottom if not carefully 
stirred, and scorch very easily. That will spoil the whole. It is 
well to turn a plate do^vn on the bottom of the kettle, it will not 
burn so readily. People differ so in their ideas of seasoning — some 
like food very fiery and highly seasoned, while others like very 
little — that it is not possible to give the exact amount of spices. 
We have given a medium quantity which, by tasting, can be va- 
ried to suit your own taste. When cooked sufficiently the catsup 
should be put into strong bottles tightly corked and tied down. 
Very little danger of bursting the bottles or forcing the cork out. 
None that we have ever tried have done so. In hot weather, if 
kept too damp, it may sour ; but we have now some made last 
summer as good as the new. 

MISCELLANEOUS HINTS. 
To Make Tea. — There is very little skill required in making 
tea, and yet A^ery few have it well prepared. It is important that 
the water should be boiling, not simply scalding ; if it is not, 
the tea will be worthless. For English breakfast tea it is best to 
allow two heaped teaspoonfuls for each person. Either put the 
tea into a perfectly dry pot, and set it on the corner of the range 
till heated through, before adding the water, or fill the teapot 
with boiling water and let it stand till thoroughly hot ; and then 
etnpty it out and put in the tea. This done, pour on two cups 
of boiling, bubbling hot water, set it on a range or a trivet over a 
spirit lamp, and let it boil two minutes ; then add a teacup of 
boiling water for every person, and let it boil again for three or 
four minutes. Put into the teacups sugar and milk according to 
the taste of those Avho are to use the tea, and fill up with the boil- 



MISCELLANEOUS HINTS. ' 485 

ing tea. When the cups are once filled, put more boiling water to 
the tea in the same proportion, and again set the pot on the trivet 
to boil again three or four minutes. The last will be nearly if 
not quite as good as the first drawing, some prefer it ; but in no 
case fail to have really boiling water. 

In making oolong or green teas, less tea is needed, and much 
less boiling. In both cases it is well to put the tea into a per- 
fectly dry teapot, and set it where it will get hot before the 
water is put in, or fill the teapot with boiling water, cover close 
till thoroughly heated, then pour out the water and put in the 
tea before the pot has time to cool, and then cover the tea with 
boiling water. Set it where it will simmer, not boil, five min- 
utes before using. 

Tlie tea-tree, or .shruli, commonly grows from three to six feet 
high ; but in its wild or native state it is said to reach twenty- 
four feet. In China it is cultivated in numerous small planta- 
tions. It resembles the myrtle in the form of the leaf and gen- 
eral appearance. The blossoms are not unlike those of the wild 
rose, l)ut smaller, white, and very fragrant. The blossoms are 
succeeded by soft green capsules, containing from one to three 
white seeds. These capsules are crushed for oil, which is in gen- 
eral use in China. 

Substitute for Milk in Tea and Coffee. — Beat up one egg 
to every coft'ee-cupful of tea or coffee. Put it in a cup and pour 
over it very gradually the tea or coffee, very hot, stirring all the 
time to prevent the egg from curdling. 

Bread Crumbs. — Be very careful that no piece of bread, that 
can be used, is wasted. Gather all waste or broken pieces, put 
them in a clean dish, and set into the " heater," if you have one to 
your stove or range ; if not, into the oven after the cooking for 
the day is done, lea\ang the door open that the pieces may not 
burn. "When thoroughly dried roll them fine on a board, and 
with a rolling-pin kept expressly for the purjaose, as it makes a 
pastry board and pin rough to roll any hard substance. Sift the 
crumbs through a colander, and keep them in a stone pot, in a 
dry place, covered closely, or put in a linen bag and hung up in 
a cool place. They are excellent to use in cooking many things, 
as well as for stuffing, and you cannot save too large a quantity. 



486 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

If \vt41 dried and properly aired, tliey will keep a year, and be as 
sweet us when first rolled, and, aside from the economy, are a 
great convenience. 

GLEANINGS. 

To Clean Kid Gloves. — Have ready a little new milk in one 
saucer, a piece of white soap in another, and a clean cloth folded 
two or thi-ee times. On the cloth spread out the glove smooth 
and neat. Take a piece of flannel, dip it ui the milk, then rub 
off a good quantity of soap on the wetted flannel, and commence 
to rub the glove toward the fingers, holding it firmly with the 
left hand. Continue this process until the glove, if white, looks 
of a dingy yellow, though clean ; if colored, till it looks dry and 
spoiled. Lay it to dry, and the operator will soon be gratified to 
see that the old glove looks nearly new. It will be soft, glossy, 
smooth, and elastic. 

To Keep Grapes. — The Chinese have a curious method of 
preserving grapes, so as to have them at command during the en- 
tire year. It consists in cutting a circular piece out of a ripe 
pumpkin or gourd, maldng an aperture large enough to admit the 
hand. The interior is next completely cleaned out, the ripe 
grapes are placed inside, and the cover replaced and pressed in 
firmly. The pumpkins are then kept in a cool place, and the 
grapes will be found to retain their freshness for a very long time. 

To Clean Oil-Cloths. — Do not use soap, or scour with a 
brush, but wash with soft flannel and lukewarm water ; wipe per- 
fectly dry. Then wring a clean cloth out of skimmed mUk, and 
wipe the oil-cloth over, moving the cloth one way, straight across, 
not round in circles or waves, and finish with a clean, dry cloth. 
In this way you can keep the oil-cloth looldng fresh and new, 
and it will last much longer than if washed with soap and 
scrubbed with a brush. 

Fill your Lamps in the Morning. — Scarcely a week passes 
but we read accounts of frightful accidents from kerosene lamjDS 
exploding and killing or scarring for life men, women, and chil- 
dren. A simple knowledge of the inflammable nature of the 
liquid will probably put a stop to nearly all the accidents. As 
the oil burns down in the lamp, highly inflammable gas gathers 



GLEANINGS. 487 

over its surface, and as the oil decreases the gas increases. When 
the oil is nearly consumed, a slight jar will inflame the gas, and 
an explosion is sure to follow. A bombshell is no more to be 
dreaded. Now, if the lamp is not allowed to burn more than 
half-way down, such accidents are almost impossible. Always 
hll j'oiu" lamp every morning, and then you need never fear an 
exj)losion. 

Colored Silk. — Mix equal parts of soft soap, alcohol, and 
molasses. Cover a table with a clean cloth, spread the article to 
be cleansed on smooth, and, holding firmly with one hand, sponge 
it thoroughly with this mixture. If the silk is spotted with 
grease or stains, give the spots an extra sponging. When the silk 
has been well sponged, rinse in tepid water twice, and tiidsh with 
a third rinsing in cold water. Have your irons hot, and iron the 
silk immediately as it is taken from the last water. Of course if 
a dress is to be cleansed, it will be first ripped apart and each 
piece sponged, rinsed, and ironed, before the next is touched. It 
is a great convenience when two pei'sons can work together ui 
dohig this, — one to sponge, while the second rinses and ii'ons. 
This compound for cleansing silk does not sound inviting, but 
try it. We have washed the most delicate colors, — blues, violets, 
etc., — and unless the color is entirely taken out, or paint been 
transferred to the silk, it is surprising how like a new silk the 
dress can be made to look. Cashmeres or merinoes of the fuiest 
color can be thus cleansed and made to look like new ; but they 
shoidd be rinsed in hot water. 

To Remove Fruit Stains. — A solution of chloride of soda 
will remove peach and all fruit or vegetable stains, and is also ex- 
cellent in removing mildew ; but for this it must be applied sev- 
eral times, and exposed to the sun, while fruit can be removed 
by it instantly. Of course it can only be used for white cotton or 
linen goods. It is perfectly harmless if well rinsed in clear water 
immediately after using. 

Bee or Wasp Stings. — Wet some cut tobacco and lay it 
on the sting. In five minutes it will be cured. Always keep cut 
tobacco in the house for such emergencies. It is invaluable and 
sure. 

To Preserve Brooms. — Wet the broom every week in boil- 



488 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

ing suds, and it will be toughened by it, will lust much, longer, 
wUl not cut the carpet, and will sweep as elastic as a new 
broom. 

Glossy Starch. — Put two ounces of white gum-arabic pow- 
der into a pitcher ; pour over it a pint of boiling water, stir well 
and cover it up ; let it stand overnight. In the morning pour it 
from the dregs into a clean bottle, and keep for use. A table- 
spoonful of this stirred into a pint of starch made in the usual 
manner will give your lawns, either black or printed, a new look, 
which nothing else can give, after being once washed. Much 
diluted, it is excellent for thin white muslin. 

Salt for Nuts. — Many people find nuts of all kinds injurious, 
and some are made seriously ill by them. It is said, and we 
think truly, if a little salt be used with them it will prevent any 
injury or inconvenience arising from their use. 

To Take Ink-Stains from Mahogany. — Put a few drops 
of nitre in a teaspoonful of water. Touch the ink-spot with a 
feather dipped in the mixture ; and as soon as the ink disappears, 
rub it instantly with a cloth wet in cold water, or there will be a 
white mark left, which will be difficult to remove. 

To Keep Quinces. — Gather the fruit at the usual time, then 
put carefully into barrels so as not to bruise, rejecting all but the 
perfectly sound ; then fill with water, head up, and put in the 
cellar. They will keep all winter, retaining all the peculiar 
qualities and flavor of fresh quinces. 

Fruit Stains. — When berries and fruits of all kinds are in 
season, the housekeeper will find it necessary to look carefully 
after the stains. They are easily removed if attended to at once, 
but if left to dry for a day or two it will be a more difficult work. 
Stretch the stained spot tightly over a deep bowl or pail, and pour 
over it boiling hot water, letting it filter through till the stain 
disappears. The water must be really boiling, not simply scald- 
ing. If the article has been thrown into suds before looking after 
the stains, the hot water will not destroy them. In that case wet 
the stain, and while wet spread over the spot some chloride of 
lime, lay the piece on the grass, or hang on the clothes-line where 
the sun will strike through for a few minutes, and then wash and 
boil immediately. This is sure, but should be used with care 



GLEANINGS. 489 

and judgment or it will eat the cloth ; but with proper oversight 
it is sale and reliable. Chloride of lime is largely used in bleach- 
ing Imen, cotton, and silk in the ditt'erent manufactures. In 
former times chlorine, or oxygenated muriatic gas, was used in 
bleaching, but its effect on the lungs of the workmen was very 
injurious. Since chloride of lime has been used instead of chlorine, 
it is considered safe for those em23loyed in factories, and harmless 
in its ellects on the goods bleached. In pickling, paring, or pre- 
serving friut, the hands get badly stained. Rub them in lemon- 
juice ; wet your nail-brush in the juice and carefully brush your 
nails and hands ; this will remove the stains effectually. A 
" bleaching liquid," prepared from chloride of lime, is very effect- 
ual in removing all stains except those made by grease. Put 
four ounces of chloride of lime into a wide-mouthed quart l)Ottle, 
add a little water and stir well with a stick, then fill the bottle 
nearly full with water, and let it stand corked for two weeks, 
that the chloride may dissolve. During this time some gas will 
be disengaged; and to prevent explosion or driving out the cork 
it will be well twice a day to remove the cork for an instant only, 
and as the gas has an extremely offensive smell it is important 
that care should be taken not to inhale it, as it is injurious to the 
lungs ; when diffused through the apartment in small quantity 
it is not hurtful. After standing two weeks, the fluid portion 
should be poured off and kept in a bottle in a dark place, Avith 
paper ^Tapped around it, as light and air injure its properties. 
This fluid should be kept in every family, biit servants ought not 
to be allowed to use it indiscreetly. 

Ink Stains. — If ink is spilled on clothes or carpet, do not 
allow it to dry, but as speedily as possible get cotton-hatting, and, 
wetting it in sweet milk, soak the spot and rub with the cotton. 
Wring the cotton out and soak again with milk, and if used when 
the ink is fresh it will soon remove it. This done, wash in 
warm soapsuds and rinse in clear warm water. 

Buying Furs. — In purchasing furs, a sure test of what dealers 
call a [irime fur is the length and density of the down next to the 
skin. This can be readily determined by blowing a brisk current 
of air from the mouth against the set of the fur. If the fibers 
open readily, exposing the skin to view, reject the article ; but if 
21* 



490 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

the down is so dense that the breath cannot peiietrate it, or at 
most shows but a small portion of the skin, the article may be 
accepted. 

Drying Umbrellas. — Most people dry their umbrellas handle 
upwards. This concentrates the moisture at the tip where it is 
close, rusts the wire w^hich secures the stretchers, and rots the 
cloth. After the umbrella is drained, it is better to invert it, and 
dry it in that position. 

A Tight Ring. — To remove a tightly fitting ring from a finger, 
without pain, pass the end of a portion of rather fine twine under- 
neath the ring, and evenly encircle the finger from below upward 
(as whipmakers bind lashes on) with the remainder, as far as the 
centre of the finger, then unwind the string from above down- 
ward by taking hold of the end passed under the ring, and it will 
be found the ring will gradually pass along the twine toward the 
tip of the finger. 

Scrubbing White Paint. — As little soap as possible should 
be used with this, and that in the water and not on the cloth. 
It not only makes the paint yellow, but, after a little while, re- 
moves it altogether. A noted housekeeper would never allow 
either soap or hot water to be Uf5ed on paint, except in case of 
grease. Cold water and a scrubbing-brush were her weapons of 
offence in waging warfare with dirt. This makes hard work, but 
it gives a very i'resh look to paint, and saves soap and fire, if one 
is inclined to try it. For greasy spots use a very little soda 
(carbonate) in the first water, to be immediately rinsed off and 
wiped dry. 

Ho-w to Wash Graining. — Take clear warm water, a clean, 
white cloth, and wash a small place and wipe dry with another dean 
white cloth. Do not wet any more space than you can dry im- 
mediately with your cloth, as it must not be left to dry in the 
atmosphere ; it must be rubbed dry, hence the necessity for clean 
white cloths. If the paint has been neglected xmtil very much 
soiled with greasy fingers, or specked with a summer's growth of 
flies, a very little hard soap may be put in the first water, and 
then rinsed off with clear water ; but avoid soap if you possibly 
can, as it dulls the varnish, however carefully used. On no ac- 
count must it be rubbed on with a cloth. 



GLEANINGS. 491 

Codfish should he piirchased in small quantities, as they are dis- 
agreeahle to have in the house. Even the desiccated codfish, that 
conies m boxes, cannot be kept so tightly covered as to secure us 
I'rom the unpleasant smell. If kept in a dry place they grow 
hard, if in a damp place they will spoil. They must be changed 
from garret to cellar often to keep them in proper condition, and 
therefore it is better to get them only as needed. 

Zante currants and stoneless or sultana raisins should be 
washed and dried when first bought, and then packed into jars 
for use. It is well to look them over occasionally, to see that 
they do not become wormy. If there should be any appearance 
of mold or worms, empty from the jars and spread on a cloth or 
paper to dry, in the warm sun or by the fire. When dry, repack. 
Keep cheese in a dry place. A cheese-box with perforated 
■ndre sides is the best thing to put it in, as the air will circulate 
tlirough it. When the cheese is cut wrap a cloth tightly about 
it to prevent its tlrying. 

Smoked beef should be kept in a bag and hung up. Hams, 
also, when cut, should be tied into a cloth or bag and hung up in 
a cool dry place. 

If strawberries, pineapples, and all delicate preserves are kept 
in a box and filled in with sand, they will keep better and longer. 
Sawdust or tan-bark is not good to fill in around them, as it 
gathers moisture and molds the preserves. 

Keep the flour-barrel well covered with a close-fitting wooden 
cover. Hang the sifter on a nail over it, but never leave it in 
the barrel. Besides being untidy, the accumulation of flour, 
dough, or moisture fi'om your hands will soon coat the sieve so 
that it cannot be used with ease, and in a short time make the 
flour musty or sour. It should be well washed and dried after 
the baking for each day is finished. No flour should be use 
unsifted, both from cleanliness and because the food will be 
lighter. 

Indian meal should lie kept in a cool, diy place, in a barrel or 
wooden pail, and stirred from the bottom often, particularly in 
warm weather, as it will readily become sour or musty. Never 
use without sifting. 



492 CHOICE FAMILY RECEIPTS. 

Coffee should 1)6 bought by the bag or barrel, as it grows better 
by age. 

Tea is cheaper by the Ijox, but take out a pound canister at a 
time, and replacing the tin foil, nail the box up again. 

Keep the canister always shut, as air injures the tea badly. 

Raisins and starch are cheaper by the box ; but raisins must 
be kept from heat or air, or they dry up and become almost 
worthless ; and the starch must be kept covered to protect it from 
dust. 

Household Weights and Measures. ^ Wheat flour, one 
pound is one quart. 

Indian meal, one pound two ounces is one quart. 

Butter, when soft, one pound one ounce is one quart. 

Loaf sugar, broken, one pound is one quart. 

White sugar, powdered, one pound one ounce is one quart. 

Best brown sugar, one pound two ounces is one quart. 

Eggs, average size, ten are one pound. 

Liquid measure, sixteen table-spoonfuls are half a pint. 

To test Flour. — Place a little in the palm of the hand, rub 
gently with the finger ; if the ilour smooths down, feeling slip- 
pery, it is inferior flour and will never make good bread, but if it 
rubs rough in the palm, feeling like tine sand, and has an orange 
hue, you may purchase it confidently. It will not disappoint 
you. 



THE END. 



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BEECHER'S SERMONS : FirM, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and 

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Of the first volume the Adoanre, of Chicago, said : — 

"The volume is a handsome one, and is prefaced with the host portrait of Mr. 
Beechcr wo have ever seen. The sermons are twenty-seven in number, the regular 
Sunday morning discourses of six months, and are a wonderful testimony, notoTily to 
the real goodness of heart of the great Plymouth preacher, but to the ferti'it.\- ui re- 
source, industry of thought, and rare ability which can keep his regular mimstraiions 
to such a height of average excellence." 

. ..." These corrected sermons of perhaps the greatest of living preachers, — a 
man whose heart is as warm and catholic as his abilities are great, and whose sermons 
combine fidelity and Scriptural truth, great power, glorious imagination, fervid 
rhetoric, and vigorous reasoning, with intense human sympathy and robust common 
sense." — liritish Quarterly Review. 

Each succeeding volume contains, also, six months' sermons (from 450 to 500 pp.) 
issued in style uniform with the Firat Series. The Second Series contains a fine 
interior view of Plymouth Church. The other volumes are not illustrated. 



LECTURE-ROOM TALKS. A series of Familiar Discourses, 

on Themes of Christian Experience. By IIenrt Ward Beecher. Phono- 
graphically reported by T. J. Ei.linwood ; with Steel Portrait. 12mo, extra 
cloth. Price, $1.75. [Out of print. IVii I be reissued soon. "^ 

" J. B. Ford it Co., who are now printers and publishers to the Beecher family, 
have collected in a handsome volume ihe Lirtiire-Room TaUx of the Brooklyn 
preacher, hi'ld in the weekly prayer-meeting of the Plymouth Church. There is a 
great deal ^'t luimorous talk mingled with much that is serious, and the subjects dis- 
cussed are of the most varied kind. It i^ a channing book." — Springfield (Mass.) 
Republican. 

MY WIFE AND I ; or, Harry Henderson's History. A 
Novel. By Harriet Beecher Stowe. Illustrated by H. L. Stephens. 474 
pages ; extra cloth, stamped cover, $ 1.75. 

This novel is the success of the year. It has been selling very rapidly ever since 
its publication. Evenjhoriy is reading it 

•■ Always bright, piquant, and entertainmg, with an occasional touch of tenderness, 
strong because subtle, keen in sarcasm, full of womanly logic directed against un- 
womanly tendencies, Blrs. Stowe has achieved an unbounded success in this her 
latest effort." — fiosZon Journal. 



MATERNITY : A Popular Treatise for Wives and Mothers. 
Uy T. S. Verdi, A. M., M. D., of Washington, D. C. Handsomely printed on 
fine paper, bevelled boards, extra English cloth, 12mo. 450 pp. Price, 
$2.25. Fourtli Edition. 

" The authoi' deserves great credit for his labor, and the book merits an extensive 
circulation." — II. S. Medical and Surgical Journal (Chicago). 

" There are few intelligent mothers who will not be benetlted by reading and keep- 
ing by them tor frequent counsel a volume so rich in valuable suggestions. With its 
tables, prescriptions, and indices at the end, this book ought to do much good," — 
Hearth and Home. 

" We hail the appearance of this work with true pleasure. It is dictated by a pure 
and liberal spirit, and wll be a real boon to manj' a young mother." — American Med- 
ical Observer (Detroit). 

THE CHILDREN'S WEEK : Seven Stories for Seven Days. 
By R. W. Raymond. 16mo. Nine full page illustrations by H. L. Stepuk^s 
and Miss M. L. Hallock. Price, extra cloth, f 1.25 ; cloth, full gilt, $ 1.50. 

" The book is bright enough to please any people of culture, and yet so simple that 
children will welcome it with glee. Air, Raymond's talus have won great popularity 
by their wit, delicate fancy, arid, withal, admirable good sense, 'ihe illustrations — 
all new and made for the book — are particuhxrly apt aud pleasmg, showing forth the 
comical element of the book ana its pure and beautiful sentimeni,." — Bu^alo (JV. >'.) 
Commercial Advertiser. 

THE OVERTURE OF ANGELS. By Henry Ward 

Beecher. Illustrated by Uabrt Fehn. 12mo, tinted paper, extra cloth, gilt. 
Price, $2.00. 

This exquisite gift book is an excerpt from Mr. Beecher's great work, the " Life of 
Jesus the Christ." It is a series of pictures, in the author's happiest style, of the 
Angelic Appearances, giving a beautiful and characteristically interesting treatment 
of all the events recorded in the Gospels as occurring about the period of tae na- 
tivity of our Lord. 

" The f.tyle, the sentiment, and faithfulness to the spirit of tbe Biblical record with 
which the narrative is treated are chaiactcristic of its author, and will commend it to 
many readers, to whom its elegance of form will give it an additional attraction." — 
Worcester (Mass.) Spy. 

" A perfect fragment," — New York World. 

OUR SEVEN CHURCHES : Eight Lectures by THOMAS K. 

Beecher. 16mo. Paper, 50 cents ; extra cloth, ©1 ; cloth, gilt, S 1.25. 

" The eight lectures comprised in this volume are conceived in a spirit of broad 
liberality as refreshing as it is rare. They evince, in the most gratifying manner pos- 
sible, how easy it is to find something good in one's neighbors or opponents, or even 
enemies, if one tries faithfully to do so, instead of making an effort to discover a fault 
or a weakness. The volume is one which should have, as it undoubtedly will, a wide 
circulation," — Detroit Free Press. 

MINES, MILLS, AND FURNACES of the Precious Me+als 

of the United States. Being a complete Exposition of the General Methods em- 
ployed in the great Mining Industries of America, including a Review of the 
present Condition and Prospectsof the Mines throughout the Interior and Pacific 
States. By Kossiter W. Katmoitd, Ph. D., United States Commissioner of 
Mining Statistics, President American Inst. Mining Engineers, Editor of tlie 
Engineering and Mining Journal, author of " The Mines of the West,'' " Amer- 
ican Mines and Mining," etc., etc. 1 vol. 8vo. 566 pages. Illustrated with 
engravings of machines and processes. Extra cloth, $ 3.50. 

" The author is thorough in his subject, and has already published a work on our 
mines which commanded universal approval by its clearness of statement and breadth 
of views," — Albany (N. T) Argus. 

" His scientific ability, his practical knowledge of mines and mining, his unerring 
judgment, and, finally, the enthusiasm with which he enters upon his work, all com- 
bine to fit him fur his position, and none could bring to it a greater degree of upright- 
ness and fauTiess." — Denver ( Col.) News. 



PRINCIPLES OF DOMESTIC SCIENCE : As applied to the 

Duties and Pleasures of Home. ISy Catuarinb K. Uekoiieb and Harriet 
li.;i;f)HER Stowe. A coaipact I'inio volume of 3'JO pajies ; profusely illus- 
trated ; well priuted, and bound in neat and substantial style. Price, !S 2.00. 

Prepared with a view to assist in training young women for the distinctive duties 
which inevitably come upon them in liousehold life, this volume has been made 
with especial reference to the duties, cares, and pleasures of the fu,mily ^ as being the 
place where, whatever the political developments of the future, woman, from her 
very nature of body and of spirit, will find her most engrossing occupation. It is 
full of interest for all iutellig.ut girls and young women. 

Jtjr' The work has been heartily indorsed and adopted by the directors of many 
of toe leading t'oUeges and Seminaries for young women as a text-book, both for 
study and reading. 

HISTORY OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK. From the 

date of the Discovery and Settlements on Manhattan Island to the Present 
Time. . A Text-Book for High Schools, Academies, aud Colleges. By S. S. Kan- 
DAl.i., Superintendent of Public Kducatiou in New York City. 12uio vol , 
39G pages. Illustrated. Price, S 1.75 

" This work contains so much valuable information that it should be found in evciy 
house in the State as a volume of reference. Its ^ aluc for use in educational insti- 
tutions is of a very high character." — i\'or//ifrn Budget, Troy (N. K). 

C;^^ Officially adopted by the Boards of Education in the cities of New York, 
Brooklyn, and Jersey City for use in the Public Schools, and also extensively used in 
I'rivate Schools throughout the State, both as a text-book and alternate reader. 



H. W. BEECHER'S WORKS. Uniform edition. This is a set 

of books long needed in the trade. It will include " Norwood," "Lectures to 
Young Men," "Eyes and Ears," "Summer in the Soul," the early "Star 
Papers," a new edition of " Lecture-Room Talks," and other works, embracing 
some which are now out of print, and for which there is constant call. 

The first volumes issued in this new edition of Mr. Beecher's minor works are 
YALE LECTURES ON PREACHING, 
Price, extra cloth, $ 1.25 ; half calf, $ 2.50 ; and a new edition of 

LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN, 
including several new lectures never before published, a new Introduction by the 
author, etc., etc. Price, extra cloth, $! 1.50 ; half calf, $ 3.00. 

STAR PAPERS, 

A new edition, including much new matter added to the original book. Price, 
extra cloth, * 1.75 ; half calf, .if 3 25. 



A FRESH BOOK BY GRACE GREENWOOD. 

NEW LIFE IN NEW LANDS : Notes of Western Travel. 

Racy, sparkling, readable, full of wit and keen observation, it eives a series of 
brillant pen pictures along the great route from the Mississippi to the Pacific. 
12mo. 396 pp. Price, extra cloth, stamped cover, S2.00 



4 

A BRILUANT SUCCESS. 



IN CONSTANT DEMAND! MPID AND CONTINUED SALES!! 



500 V^oliimes in One, 



AGENTS WANTED 

FOR THE 



Library of Poetry and Song, 



Choice Selections from the Best Poets, 

ENGLISH, SCOTCH, IRISH, AND AMERICAN, INCLUDING TRANS- 
LATIONS FROM TKE GERMAN, SPANISH, etc. 

WITH AN INTKODUCTION 

By WILLIAM CULLEN BKTANT, 

Under whose careful Supervision the Work was Compiled. 

In one Superb Large Octavo Volnme of over 800 pages, weU printed, on Fine 

Paper, and Illustrated with an admirable Portrait on Steel of Mr. 

Bryant, together with twenty-six Autographic Fac-Similes 

on Wood of Celebrated Poets, besides 

other choice Full-page Engravings, 

by the best Artists. 



The handsomest find cheapest subscription book extant. A Library of 
over 500 Volumes in one book, whose contents, of no ephemeral nature or 
interest, will never grow old or stale. It can be, and will be, read and re- 
read with pleasure as long as its leaves hold together. 

This book has been prepared with the aim of gathering into a single 
volume the largest practicable compilation of the best Poems of the 
English language, making it as nearly as possible the choicest and most 
complete general collection of Poetry yet published. 



THE 



"LIBRARY OF POETRY AND SONG" 

Is a volume destined to became one of the most popular books ever 
printtd. It is truly a people's book. Its contents would cost hunareds 
of dollars in the books whence they are gleaned, English and American ; 
and, indeed, although one possessed the volumes, the reading of such vast 
numbers of pages would be a labor not readily undertaken by most peop'e, 
even those who appreciate poetry. 



The New York Times, 

A journal well known the country over for high literary excellence and 
correct taste, says : — 

" This very handsome volume differs from all collections of ' elegant extracts,' par- 
lor books, aiiil the like, which we have seen, in beinj,' arranged according to an intel- 
ligible and comprehensive plan, in containing selections which nearly cover the 
eiuhv historical period over which bnglmli jioelry extends, and iu embracing matter 
suited to every conceivable taste and every \ ariety of feeling and culture. iVe know 
of i,u similar' cullectivii iii the iJnyhsh laii'juaiji; ivliich,iu copiousness and fenci/!/ of 

selec/ioii and arranfjciiunt, can at all cuiiipaie with U llic volume is a model of 

typographical clearness." 

The Albany Evening Journal, 

One of the oldest papers aud highest literary standards in the country, 
says : — 

" It is undoubtedly ' the choicest and most complete general collection of poctn' yet 
published.' if will be deemed sufficien- proof of the judicious character of the selec- 
tions, and of Iheir excellence, that ' every poem has taken its place in the book only 
after passing the cultured criticism of jlr. William CuUen Bryant,' whose portrait 
constitutes the titling frontispiece of the volume. The work could have no higher 
Indorsement. Jlr. Bryant'slntroduction to the volume is a most beautiful and critical 
essay on poets and poetry, from the days of ' the father of English poetry ' to the 

present time No other selection we knoio of is as varied and complete as this : and 

it must find its way into every library and household where ])oetry is read and 
appreciated." 



This book, supplying a real public need in an admirable manner, has 
constantly sold so fast that the pttblishers have had trouble to keep up 
their stock. It has won an instant and permanent topularitv. 

Terms liberal. Agents all like it, and buyers are more than pleased 
with it. j^^" Send for Circular and Terms to 

J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, 

27 Park Place, New York. 

BRANCH OFFICES: Boston, 11 Bronifleld Street; Chicago, 75 West 
Washington Street ; San Francisco, 339 Kearney Street. 



6 
A HOUSEHOLD BOOK. 

NINE UNABRIDGED, WORLD-RENOWNED VOLUMES IN ONE. 



AGENTS WANTED 

FOK THE 

jIbrary of Famous Fiction, 

EMBKACING THE 

Nine Standard Masterpieces of Imaginative Literature 

(unabridged), 
WITH AN INTRODUCTION 

By HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 

BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED 

With 34 FuH-page Engravings ; executed by the best Artists in 

England aud America ; with an Illuminated Title-Page, Biographical 

- 1 otice of each Author, etc., — in one Elegant Large Octavo Volume 

of nearly 1,100 pages, brilliantly printed on fine paper, 

handsomely and substantially bound. 



In their present venture, the publishers congratulate themselves that the matter 
offered has been endorsed by the approval of the entire reading world for many 
generations. The remarkable success attending their Library of Poetry and Son a-, 
put forth under the auspices of that greatest American poet, William Culle;* 
B.^YANT, naturally suggested the idea of a corresponding Library of Famous Fiction, 
to be guaranteed and set before the public by the mo«t popular American writer of 
fiction known to this day, — Mrs. Haeriet Beecher Stowe. Thus have been com- 
bined the nine great masterpieces of imaginative prose, embodying in a single 
convenient volume those Famous Fictions which have been admired and loved 
always, everywhere, and by all classes. 

Their number is not large ; their names rise spontaneously, and by common con- 
sent, in every mind : Pdgrirn's Progress; Robinson Crusoe; The Vicar of Wakefield ; 
Oailiver^s Travels (revised) ; Paulavtl Virginia; Picciola ; Eliznbelli, or the R.nles 
if Siberia ; Undiw ; Vnthek : and a SclecVon of Tales from the Arabian JVigh's'' Fn- 
t rluiiim nts. As Mrs. Stowe says in her Introduction, " not a simjle one could be 
spared from this group, in gathering those volumes of fiction which the world, 
without di.'fsent, has made classic.'^ 

^W^ Sold only by Subscription throiigli our Agents. .^^J! 

TEKMS lilBERAIi. Send for full description and business circulars, to 

J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, 

•27 Parlt Place, New York. 

BRANCH OFFICES; Boston, 11 Eromfield Street; Chicago, 75 Wes) 
Washington Street ; San Francisco, 339 Kearney Street. 



SOLD ONLY BY AGENTS. 



A BOOK FOR EVEHYBOOyr 



Till- vory rcmarltable success of this book is not stranjje, .although 
it is having unprecedented sales. 



THE LIFE 

OF 

JESUS TPIE CHRIST, 

UY 

HENRY WARD BEECHER. 



■ « » ■ » > 

From the Boston (Mass.) Traveller. 

" This work lias a deeper purpose to serve than that of mere oinanient. It is the 
product of a life of thought and loving labor in study of the character and life of Jesus, 
and a remarkably successful career of presenting it to the popular mind in the min- 
istry of the pulpit. 

" III" dciiiinul for this book will be great among the searchers after knowledge, and 
It will be a standard for Christian homos and libraries. It is destined to exert a tre- 
mendous inliutnce, not only m this day and generation, but in all time." 

By the Rev. Joseph P. Thompson, I.I1 D., from an article in The 
Intfependent. 

" That which first impresses one in llr. Becchor's hook is thematurity of the work, 
both in its conception and in its execution. If any have expected to find in it rhe- 
torical fancies siruek oufat extemporaneous heat, declamatory statements— ' the 
.spontaneities of nil his individual iwrsonal life ' — projected froiii some fusing ceime 
of philosophy witliin, liuf nut w ildcd into logical consistency, they have yet to know 
Mr. Beecher through this Ijodk, as working by method upon a well-ordered sehi'iue 
of tlioughi, and with a (ier|) |iliiiosophio puri)ose toward one gr'iit, oM'rnia^tering 
coneepiion. He has neither thrown oft' his random thoughts nor si rung tojiether Ins 
best tlioughts : but has luoie.'ht all his powers, in the maturity of Ibeir strength, in 
the riclmess uf their experienee. and the largeness of their development, to produce a 
Work that may fitly represent the labors and the results 01 his life." 



More Agents Wanted. 

Intelligent men and women may obtain lucrative empWment by taking 
.nn agency. Fu'l descripive Circulars mailed free. Very liberal terms to 
Canvassers. Apply to 

J. B. FORD & CO., 

37 Park Place, New York: 11 Bronifield St., Boston, Mass.; IS 
West Washington St., Cliicago, 111. : 339 Kearney St., San Fran- 
cisco, Cal. 



THE 

CHRISTIAN UNION 

IS AN UNSECTAEIAN RELIGIOUS WEEKLY. 

HENRY WARD BEECHER, 
Editor. 



» »«» > 



This journal has liad a very remarkable success, in two years at- 
taining a circulation surpassit^g that of any other religious weekly in 
the world. 

WUY IS IT? 

Because, First, Henry Ward Bekchkr is its Editor, and his 
Editorials, Star Papers, and occasional Literary Reviews and Lecture-Room 
Talks are sougtit for by thousands, while the auxiliary editorial labor is in the 
hands of cultiyated journalists ; ike COJ\rTHIBUTORS being representwive 
men and women of ALL Deiiovunaliuns. 

BecaM<«e, Second///, ITS FORM, twenty-four pages, large quarto, 
SECDRELT PASTED AT THE BACK AND CUT AT THE EDGES, IS SO Convenient for read- 
ing, binding, and preservation, as to be a great and special merit in its favor. 

Bfcajise, Third///, It is called "the most Interesting Religious Paper 
piibhshcil,'''' being quoted from by the press of the entire country more exten- 
.Mvely than any other. The critical JVation (N. Y.) says it is "Not only the 
ablest and best, but also, as we suppose, the most popular of American religious 
periodicals. At all events it is safe to predict that it will soon have, if it has 
not already, greater influence than any other religious paper in the country." 

Because, Fonrtfih/, It has something for even/ Member of the House- 
hold : admirable contributed and editorial articles, discussing all timely topics , 
fresh information on unhackneyed subjects; reliable news of the Church and 
the world ; Market and Financial Reports ; an Agricultural Department; ex- 
cerpts of Public Opinion from the press ; careful Book Reviews, with Educa- 
tional, Literary, Musical, and Art Notes ; much matter of a high and pure 
religious tone ; a Household Department ; choice Poems ; Household Stories ; 
and Chat for the Little Ones. 



Because, Fijlhlij, Every subscriber is presented with 

TWO SUPERB OIL CHROMOS, 

"WIDE AWAKE" AND "FAST ASLEEP," 

A pair, — no cheap colored prints, but spleudiil copies of Oil Paiutiiigs, by an 
eminent English artist. The selling price of the pair is ()§! 10) /'(■« Uallam, at 
which price thousands have been sold in America, and still are selling and will 
be sold by the picture trade generally. 

Or, if any should prefer it, the subscriber will be presented with our new, 
large, and 

EXQUISITE OLEOGRAPH, 

from a charming painting by Lobriciion (one of the most brilliant arti.sts of the 
Parisian school), entitled 

"LITTLE RUNAWAY AND HER PETS." 

The f^ize (14 '^ x 21 '^ inches) makes it a very large picture, and it is an admira- 
ble and artistic centre-piece for " Wide Awako " and " Fast Asleep," or a nio.'t 
delicate, attractive, and beautiful work of art in itself. 



TERMS. 

One Year's Subscription (including ifnmnunted Picture's) .... .fsS.OO 
Do. do. (including Pictures mounted ; the Chromos on card 

board, or the Oleograph on canvas, sized, varnished, 

and ready for framing) 3.25 

Two do. do. (including all the Pictures, sized, varnished, etc.) . ,5.75 

The Christi.^n Union and Pltmouth Pcr.PiT mailed for one year to one 

address (including Chromos as above) for S 5-00 or 5 25 

11;;^°' In all ca.«es, ten cents extra must he sent to defray the cost of wrapping and 
mailing the pictures to the subscriber's address, .-^^i 



K^ Canvassers allowed liberal Commissions. 

An old agent who knows says : " I have never presented anything for sale that 
met with the approval of the entire reading community as nearly as does Henry 
Ward Beeoher's CHRISTIAN UNION. Sorry I did not work for it sooner. Think 
it tilt best business for canvasners ever offered by any firm, to my knowledge." 

J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, 

37 Park Place, New York City. 

BRANCH OFFICES: Boston. 11 Bromfield Street; Chicago, 75 VTest 
Washington Street ; San Francisco, 339 Kearney Street. 



PLYMOUTH PULPIT 

Is a weekly pamphlet Publication of Seraioiis preacliecl by 

HENRY WARD BEBOHER, 

Printed from Mr. T. .7 Ellinwood's careful, verbatim phonographic reports, taken 
down from the ppeiiker's lips This issue is the only regularly authorized edition of 
tliem, the one indorsed by Mr. Beechbr's approval as correct, and sanctioned by his 
authority. It is well printed on good paper, in book form ; it is ^uitablt for hiHilhitr 
a ul pre.-ifrital-iiiii, and it is cheap, within the reach of all. The publishers have also 
responded to the demand for a continued insertion of the Prayers before and after 
the Sermon, as among the most spiritually profitable of Mr. Beecher's ministra- 
tions. Besides this, the Scriptural lesson and hymns sung (Plymouth Collection) 
are indicated, thus maliing a complete record of one service of Plymouth Church 
for each Sunday. 

CRITICAL OPINIONS. 

BRITISH. AMERICAN. 

" Tliey are magnificent discourses. I " We certainly find in these sermons a 

have often taken occ-ision to say that great deal which we can conscientiously 

Beecher is the greatest preacher that ever commend, and that amply justifies the 

appeared in the world; this judgment is exalted position which their author holds 

most soberly considered and most deliber- among American preachers. They are 

ately pronounced; his brilliant fancy, his worthy of great praise for the freshness, 

deep knowledge of human nature, his af- vigor, and earnestness of their style; for 

fluent language, and the many-sidedness the beauty and oftentimes surprising apt- 

ofhis noble mind, conspire to place him at ness of their illustrations; for the laVge 

the head of all Christian speakers."— amount of consolatory and stimulating 

Rev. Dr. Paeksr, in The Pulpit Analyst thought embodied in them, and for the 

(Article " Ad Clkrum ";. force and skill with which religious con- 
siderations are made to bear upon the 

"Those corrected Sermons of perhaps mostcommon transactions of life.'' — £?6- 

the greatest of living preachers, — a man liotheca Sacra, Andover, Mass. 

whose heart is as warm and catholic as .< t -^ f „hnitv anrl pIoohptipp hp 

!?^m't!iiJl'Jrieirfv't'oSPrTn?n™'l';i^',r,f'"rP^? haslea^cSy a riva 'v^fleln Ir^e'i! 

nowe ^ /or^us ma°[Aa n fe v i fhet '™ "^^^ arises from' earnestness and deep, 

powei, glorious imagination, terviu met- i,,.„o(i hnmaTiitv lie is ahsoliitelv nnri- 

oric, and vigorous reasoning, with intense ^^^fA ^v^^o^eache? of the nresent a"e 

tTp >. '''^^r'^^^'n '^nt^r^f^. .'r '""'' exercises'^so Tdt'I^^d poten? aSuen^ce! 
sense. - Bntuh Quarterly Review. ^„^ j^^ reaches a class that ordinary 

" They are without equal among the pub- preachers fail to touch." — Pliiladelphia 

lished sermons of the daj'. Everywiiere Inquirer. 

we find ourselves in the hands of a man of Mr. Beecher " by his genius, and wilh- 
high and noble impulses, of thorough fear- out any direct efl['ort, has more influence 
lessness, of broad and generous sympa- upon the ministerial profession than all 
thics, who has consecrated all his wealth the theological seminaries combined. The 
of intelligence and heart to the service of discourses are rich in all that makes re- 
preaching the Gospel." — Literary World, ligious literature valuable." — Chicago 
Lon.;on. Evening Journal. 



Vol. 1., No. 1, of Plymouth Pulpit was issued September 26, 1868 Each 
Volume contains twenty six numbers, being one sermon each week for six months. 
This gives annually two volumes of nearly Jive hundred pages each. 



TERMS. — Single numbers, ten cents. Yearly Subscription price, $3.00. 
Half yearly, § 1.75. Subscriptions may begin with any number. Back numbers 
supplied 

CLUB RATES — five copies for S I'S.OO. 

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Postage on Plymouth Pulpit to subscribers in the United States is twenty cents 
per year, payable quarterly in advance, at the Post-Office to which the pamphlet is 
sent ; and on single copies to England it is/oiw cents. 

J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers, 

37 Park Place, New York. 



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